


Good Gracious, You're a Heart Attack

by ArbiterofAbsurdities



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Adorable Jester Lavorre, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Earn Your Happy Ending, Everyone's Human Though, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I don't know how hospitals work, Jester Lavorre Needs a Hug, Minor Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Mollymauk's Already Dead, Mutual Bonding Over Accents, Mutual Pining, Mutual Recovery, No Beta I Accept Full Responsibility, Nott is Veth, POV Caleb Widogast, POV Jester Lavorre, Parent Nott (Critical Role), Slow Burn, Texting, Widojest - Freeform, Wildemount (Critical Role), beau/yasha - Freeform, cw: abuse (past), cw: addiction (past), cw: alcoholism, cw: depression & anxiety, cw: emotional/psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArbiterofAbsurdities/pseuds/ArbiterofAbsurdities
Summary: Months after abruptly quitting his coveted residency position at Rexxentrum Hospital and falling off the map, the brilliant but haunted Doctor Caleb Widogast, surgeon at Alfield General, is taking steps to get his life back together with the help of his new friends. He's fine. Until the hospital's newest art therapist, Jester Lavorre, arrives in town, turning Caleb's world upside down.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Jester Lavorre & Marion Lavorre | Ruby of the Sea, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast, Veth Brenatto & Caleb Widogast, Veth Brenatto/Yeza Brenatto
Comments: 163
Kudos: 222





	1. The Girl in the Hallway

**Author's Note:**

> It's the doctor/art therapist fic no one asked for! It's also the self-isolation fic I decided to write to help my raging anxiety! I know exactly zero things about being a doctor. Or an art therapist. My hospital knowledge comes from Scrubs. Forgive me.
> 
> Title is from "Heart Attack" by Wild Rivers.

“Doctor Widogast to reception. Doctor Widogast to reception. … You can’t reply to this message.” 

Caleb sighed, failing to hide a small smile. Even though his friend had been working at the hospital for three months now, he would never get used to hearing Veth’s cracking voice over the PA system.

Tossing a half-finished styrofoam cup of muddy break room coffee in a trashcan, Caleb made his way to the reception desk of Alfield General Hospital. No sense in keeping Veth waiting. 

As he rounded the corner of the pediatric ward — well, ward was a generous way of describing what was actually the cramped waiting room and office where Doctor Clay proffered brightly-colored lollipops while intoning wise advice for both health and life — Caleb nearly lost his balance when someone careened straight into him with the momentum of a wrecking ball. 

Caleb heard her gasp as she slammed into him, scattering the contents of the bags she was carrying in both arms across the green and white linoleum floor. 

“Shit!”

“ _Sheisse_!” 

And then they were both crawling on the floor, gathering up her… art supplies? 

“OhmygodI’msososorry,” said the young woman, her tongue whirling mile-a-minute apologies.

“ _Nein_ ," Caleb responded as he picked up a box of crayons — the good kind with all the colors with fascinating names he had always wanted as a child.

“- completely my fault,” she insisted, still talking, apologizing, and collecting plastic tubs of watercolors, stray brushes, and wayward colored pencils. “I toooooo-tally wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

Was that an accent his ears detected? Best not to ask. Like Caleb, she probably did not think of herself as having an accent, despite how much Veth and Beau insisted he _did,_ _he did, he so did_. 

Supplies he could grasp in hand, Caleb stood up, turning to face her. “ _Nein._ It wasn’t your-”

Oh. 

Staring intently at him with a mixture of embarrassment and concern in eyes that inexplicably were the shade of violets in bloom, and a disarmingly pink blush spreading over freckled olive skin was a rather short and very pretty young woman. “I’m sooo sorry. Are you ok?” 

Caleb felt his brain short-circuiting. Is this what Beauregard’s computers did when something went wrong inside of them? 

The young woman’s head tilted, and Caleb realized he had been silent for what could be mistaken for a creepy length of time. She had asked him a question, right? 

“Uh…” Revered surgeon, brightest in his cohort, pride of his field. _Utter failure and coward_. Incapable of stringing a sentence together when facing a beautiful woman. 

“Are you alright?” She seemed to catch on to Caleb’s shyness, her expression softening. Of course, that only made him feel like crawling into a hole and staying there until he was forgotten by the world.

“Fine,” Caleb replied, suddenly and perhaps a bit too insistently. His throat felt strained. He swallowed, taking a breath before continuing. “I’m… fine. It was not your fault. And… no apologies are necessary.” 

The young woman giggled. Caleb wanted to hold on to that sound forever. “You’re very sweet. But it toootally was.” 

Caleb was certain he had been staring at her for too long. How could he not? Her hair was especially alluring — black waves that stopped just above her shoulders, streaked artfully with varying shades of blue. He wanted to reach out and run a single curl through his fingers. Oh god, what was wrong with him? _Not for you, Widogast._

At a loss for what to do next, Caleb thrust forward his arms full of art materials. “These… are yours?” _Of course they’re hers, you ass. What an idiotic question._

The young woman brightened though. Was something wrong with _her_? “Yes, thank you so much!” She took the paint, pencils, crayons, and a sketchbook and moved to place them back in her tote bags. “I'd be the worst art therapist ever if I showed up without supplies, right? That would be crazy!”

Ah. That made sense. Why else would someone be walking (sprinting) through the halls of a hospital with bags full of washable paint and quick-dry clay? But since when did Alfield General have an art therapist?

“Crazy indeed,” Caleb replied softly, a nervous smile teasing the corner of his lips. This woman’s exuberance was charming him like a magic spell, and he had only just met — not even _met_ — her. “You are an art therapist then?” Hadn't she just said that?

She nodded vigorously. “First day. Isn’t that great?” 

Caleb felt himself nodding along. 

“And yoooooou’re a doctor?”

“ _Ja_ … yes,” he answered, self-consciously tugging at one of the open flaps on his white coat — which wasn't so much white as dingy and stained by various fluids ranging from hot beverages to soup to those less desirable substances often found in hospitals (damn it. Veth was right, Caleb needed a new coat). “Well, uh… surgeon actually.”

The young woman’s eyes widened. Caleb felt some of the breath leave his body. “No way! That is pretty cool,” she exclaimed.

_Pretty cool? You? She doesn’t know you. And she never will._

“So you, like, cut people open and poke their organs to figure out how to fix them?” 

Maybe she had said “cut” a bit too enthusiastically, but a chuckle escaped Caleb anyway, which wasn’t normal. Conversation with anyone outside of Veth and occasionally Dr. Clay or Dr. Theyless wasn’t typical for Caleb. He often went whole days without talking to anyone, though that had been before he had helped Veth get her new job as Alfield General’s medical receptionist. Much to Caleb’s chagrin, the small, plump woman who had claimed, against his better judgement, a spot in his damaged heart demanded the brilliant Dr. Widogast become a more sociable person. Or at least a person who hated himself less.

“That’s one way of looking at surgery, _ja_ ,” said Caleb.

“I’ve never met a surgeon before.” She placed a finger to her lips meditatively, gaze growing distant for a moment before she asked, “does the apple thing count then?”

“The what?”

“The apple thing! Y’know — an apple a day keeps the doctor away.” She grinned, clearly preening at her cleverness. 

Caleb stared at her blankly. “I suppose so,” he said after a pause. “I am a doctor.”

“Then I’d better stop buying apples at the store!”

If Caleb had short-circuited earlier, then the feeling that followed would have been classified as a complete and total system failure. Cardiac arrest. If he had been hooked up to an EKG machine, Caleb would have been flatlining. Dead on arrival. Cause of death: a stunning woman whose attention he absolutely did not deserve had made a terrible, clichéd, and — dare he think it — _adorable_ joke.

As it stood, he felt the cold, dead thing that had once been his heart resuscitate and, though he knew it wasn’t medically possible barring an arrhythmia, even skip a beat. Who was this impossible woman who could bring a man long dead back to life with just a few words and a lovely smile? 

“Oh shit!” Caleb could not stop himself from jumping at her outburst.

“What time is it?”

“9:08,” he responded without hesitation and without glancing at the crumbling leather-strapped watch wrapped around his left wrist. _Freak._

The woman let out a loud gasp. “I’mlatesorryagainbye!” With that, she took off down the hallway, bags grasped in her fists and moving so quickly Caleb could have sworn her legs came a cartoonish whirlwind.

It was only after she had disappeared, after the sound of her rapid footsteps had died away, that Caleb, looking much like a man who had been struck by lightning, realized he had not learned her name.

*****

“What the hell took you so long?” 

Still dumbfounded by what had just happened outside of the pediatric ward, Caleb did not even cringe at the volume or fierceness of Veth’s voice. 

“I was worried,” his friend continued, glaring at him over the stark white counter of the hospital reception desk. 

“I had some trouble in the hallway,” Caleb explained, hoping Veth would let it be and deliver whatever message she had for him without poking into his personal life. Clearly he did not know Veth Brenatto, a woman with a natural-born talent for sniffing out when her chronically awkward surgeon friend was holding back on her — which was often.

Veth’s eyes narrowed. “Trouble? Where are they? I’ll fuckin’-”

“ _Nein_ , Veth,” Caleb corrected her quickly, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard. Nothing like cursing loudly in the workplace in front of patients and visitors to get human resources breathing down your back. And Veth needed this job.

“Not that kind of trouble, _schatz_.”

Veth’s posture relaxed as she sank into her seat, though Caleb caught a glimmer in her expression that informed him he had not heard the end of her questions. “Good. Then you’ll want to hear what Beau and I were just texting about.”

“Since when do you and Beauregard text?”

“Since you wouldn’t answer your messages, so she decided to start texting me instead,” Veth said, grinning triumphantly. “She knows I’m a reliable messenger.” 

Caleb wasn’t entirely sure about that assessment, but he let Veth gloat. 

Until recently, Beau, Caleb’s mercurial roommate of six months, and Veth had been more adversaries than friends, bound only by their mutual association with Caleb, which remained strange to Caleb because he had never, _ever_ been the person who brought people together. (Though bringing them together was hardly what he would have called it.) Veth was naturally suspicious of anyone who wasn’t Caleb, and Beauregard had a doctorate in taking almost any comment as a personal affront. 

In Caleb’s eyes, however, the two women should have been a good fit. After all, they were more alike than different. Both were distrustful of others yet deeply loyal to their inner circles. Both were scrappy and a touch odd. And both were wickedly competitive, mostly with each other. At some point they had graduated from circling each other like feral cats to having one another’s numbers in their phones — that was enough for Caleb.

“What were you and Beauregard texting about?”

“We’re going out tonight!” Veth’s voice had climbed several decibels once again.

“You and Beau?” Caleb asked, bewildered. 

“No, silly, all of us. You, me, Fjord, Caduceus, Fjord’s gym friend… Beau.” 

Caleb groaned, ignoring the not-so-subtle whiff of disdain in Veth’s voice when she tacked on Beau’s name at the end of her list. “Is that necessary?”

“What?”

“Going out.”

Veth breathed a heavy sigh. “Caleb, you deserve to have some fun. You work very, very hard all day, every day.”

“Not every day,” argued Caleb quietly. “I have days off.” 

Veth’s brows raised expectantly. “And what do you do on your days off?”

“I…” He trailed off and pursed his lips, stumped. That was when Veth pounced.

“Exactly!”

“I do things, Veth!” Caleb was beginning to grow exasperated. He hated feeling like his every action was the subject of an inquiry. Even worse, he hated people feeling sorry for him. “I read. Spend time with Frumpkin.”

“All by yourself.”

“With Frumpkin. And you. And Beauregard.” 

“Spending time with me at work doesn’t count,” said Veth, sticking out a finger to represent each counterargument. “And being _around_ your roommate doesn’t mean you are spending time _with_ your roommate. And also, Caleb, I’m sorry to say this, but Frumpkin is a cat, not a person.”

Caleb frowned at that. Of course Frumpkin wasn’t a person; he was better. But Caleb knew better than to argue with Veth. Stubbornness was another trait she and Beau had in common, and in spades. Once they set their minds to something, heaven help anyone — even Caleb — who got in the way. Add to that the fact that even though they tried hard not to, Veth and Beau cared about others, more than themselves and far more than they would have liked anyone to know. 

Caleb could commiserate; it wasn’t easy to tune out the world when you thought your chest might explode from caring too much. As much as it frustrated Caleb to no end, Veth was pushy because she cared.

Caleb hung his head in defeat. “ _Ja_. Ok. You win.”

Veth jumped up, elated. “You won’t regret it!”

“Famous last words,” said Caleb, wincing. Hopefully the night wouldn’t be a complete shit show.

*****

_Momma would be so proud_ , mused Jester as she surveyed the chaotic mess her last group had left. Never mind the paint dripping from precariously placed brushes that threatened to drop to the floor. Forget the crayons whose broken ends were tethered together only by the paper still wrapped around them. Jester was proud of herself. 

After a long day of orientation, which included a brief tour of the facility and getting to meet her first groups, Jester had a feeling she was going to be pretty good at this art therapist thing. Good thing, too, since she needed the hours to complete her certification program. After, there was the possibility that she could stay on at Alfield General, pending her performance, of course.

Exhaling with satisfaction, Jester began cleaning up and gathering her supplies. Her feet ached. This day was the longest time she had ever gone without sitting, even for lunch, which was when Jester had gone on the hospital tour with the very short, very loud, and very entertaining receptionist. Veth, right? Jester liked her instantly. Veth was tough but also caring and interesting. 

Initially, Jester had worried people working in a hospital would be too busy or too self-important to strike up a conversation. And, true, Veth had been doing her job, but Jester’s intuition was legendary. Her gut had never steered her wrong. Except for that _one_ time… 

Then there was the doctor — no, _surgeon_ — Jester had crashed into that morning. She felt heat rising to her face as she remembered the incident. Whoops! Momma had always told her to look before she leaped… or flew around corners. But the surgeon hadn’t seemed to mind that much. In fact, he was so flustered and shy, she half expected him to begin to apologize to her for not looking where _he_ was going. 

He was also super cute. 

Jester felt a little flutter in her stomach as she thought about his flame-colored hair. She had always liked redheads, and he had enough hair to tie it back in a ponytail, messy as it had been. He had been a little scruffy, and he desperately needed to wash his coat. But that had only added to his appeal. And those eyes. Blue as the waters of the Menagerie Coast. Just looking into them had made her feel homesick.

Jester had texted her best friend Beau as soon as she found a moment alone — in the bathroom, naturally. 

_(10:51) Jester Lavorre: holy shit you'll never believe what just happened!!!!!_

_(10:53) Beau Lionett: some old dude had a heart attack and you gave him the kiss of life_

_(10:54) Jester Lavorre: no!!! i met the cuuuuuuuuuutest guyyyyyy_

_(10:56) Beau Lionett: you’ve been there for like two hours and you’ve already got a crush?_

Jester had responded with a middle finger emoji, followed by the emoji with its tongue sticking out and scrunched up eyes so Beau knew she was joking.

_(10:58) Beau Lionett: so…. what’s his name?_

_(10:58) Jester Lavorre: FUCK I FORGOT TO ASK_

_(10:59) Beau Lionett: how?!?!?!?_

_(10:59) Jester Lavorre: i kinda ran into him and then he helped me pick up my art supplies and i made a joke about how an apple a day keeps the doctor away and then i was late so i had to run and omgggg i’m sooooo dumb_

_(11:01) Beau Lionett: ……… we’re gonna have to unpack that later_

_(11:01) Beau Lionett: so guessing you didn’t get a # either_

_(11:02) Jester Lavorre: fuck fuck fuck_

_(11:03): Beau Lionett: yeah that seems about right. ok what does he look like? i’ve been there a few times maybe i know him_

_(11:04) Jester Lavorre: really tall red hair blue eyes super shy_

_(11:05) Beau Lionett: holy shit_

_(11:05) Beau Lionett: jessie i got this_

_(11:06) Jester Lavorre: know him?_

_(11:05) Beau Lionett: let’s go out tonight_


	2. Hit Like a Head Full of Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful reception this little fic has gotten already has warmed my heart — thank you! Writing has been cathartic, especially right now. Be safe and be healthy, friends.
> 
> Chapter title is also from "Heart Attack" by Wild Rivers.

Beau’s message about going out that night had come out of nowhere, but Jester wasn’t about to say no to exploring Alfield and meeting Beau’s friends. And her mysterious roommate. 

Beau was always complaining about him. How he kept to himself and left books everywhere. How he was so quiet he had scared the living daylights out of her several times, mainly late at night. How his cat was always knocking glasses of water over — on purpose, Beau insisted. Jester had seen the cat on her video calls with Beau, but never the roommate. Jester even had a theory that Beau had made her roommate up and was either losing her marbles or playing an elaborate prank. No one could possibly be that antisocial.

In between work, wrangling kids trying to poke each other with lethally sharpened colored pencils, and grabbing lunch from the vending machine down the hall, the next two hours had consisted of a flurry of messages between Jester and Beau hashing out details for their night of fun. There was a watering hole Beau liked to frequent. After work, they would grab a bite to eat at the taco place in Alfield’s business improvement district. Then they would head over to meet Beau’s friends. 

*****

“You were so right. Those tacos were ahhhh-mazing!”

“Like I’d ever steer you wrong, Jessie.”

Jester’s cheeks hurt from grinning. Once more in Beau’s company, Jester felt as if she had rediscovered a long-lost part of herself. She and Beau had been tight-knit while rooming together at Zadash University, and Jester had not been entirely honest about how the post-college distance and loneliness had weighed on her. After graduation, Jester had returned home to Nicodranas, while Beau had moved to Alfield to join a tech startup. But now they were together, finally in the same place again. It was only too bad they couldn’t live together this time around.

“It’s not the original,” Beau bemoaned as they approached their next destination. Apparently the prime Invulnerable Vagrant was in Zadash; this location was operated by the founder’s brother.

Beau let out a whoop when she caught sight of three figures up ahead. “Yo, assholes!”

Beau performed one of those ultra-masculine greeting rituals consisting of a half-hug and a fist bump with a tall young man with black hair pulled into a top knot and biceps the size of Jester’s head. A jagged scar cut across his eye, driving a line between his eyebrow. Jester felt a flutter in her stomach. To say he was cute would be an understatement.

“Jester, this is Fjord,” Beau said, motioning toward him. “Fjord, Jester Lavorre.” 

Without skipping a beat, he — Fjord — flashed a suave smile and made a motion like he was tipping an invisible hat on his head. “Pleasure to meet you, Jester. Beau’s told us a lot about you.” Jester couldn’t quite place his accent, which was somewhere between Prince Charming and a cowboy’s drawl. 

“And this is Cad — Caduceus,” Beau corrected herself, dipping her head toward the tallest person Jester had ever met — and with the brightest, pinkest hair Jester had ever seen. She would have to swap hair care tips with him.

Caduceus smiled broadly, his deep, gentle eyes crinkling with delight. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said blithely, kindly. His voice was like a warm hug given just when it was needed. Jester loved him already.

“Hi, Jester!”

Jester had nearly missed the plump, short figure of Veth, dwarfed as she was by the sheer enormity of Caduceus and Fjord. “Veth!” Jester pulled the smaller woman firmly into Jester's arms. “I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

Veth’s brown cheeks went pink. She appeared surprised yet pleased to have been hugged by someone she had met only ten hours earlier. “I may be old, but I can still party.”

“Can we drink now?” Beau growled.

“Slow your roll, Beau,” said Fjord, rolling his eyes. “We’re still waiting on Caleb.”

“Where the hell is he?”

“Caleb’s your roommate, right?”

“My roommate who is annoyingly on time for everything  _ except _ hitting up fucking the bar,” Beau answered Jester, frustration palpable.

“He had surgery,” cut in Veth with more than a note of protective irritation. “And he stayed past his shift because he’s a wonderful, caring, thoughtful person, Beauregard.” 

“I didn’t work all day just to sit around and wait for Widogast to get his ass here.”

“Well then it’s a good thing you’re not sitting,” quipped Veth with a crooked grin.

Before Beau could open her mouth to spit a retort, a tall (seriously, was there something in the water in Alfield?), ginger-haired man skidded to a halt near them. 

“Sorry… I didn’t... mean… to keep… you,” he said as he caught his breath. 

“Ohmygod! You!”

Everyone turned to stare at Jester, including the newcomer whose flush darkened and overtook his entire face when he locked eyes with her.

The surgeon from the hospital. The one she had bumped into. He was Caleb. He was Beau’s roommate.

A beat of silence followed. 

“You… know each other?” Veth asked.

“Of course! We met this morning at the hospital,” explained Jester, winking at Caleb, who looked more and more like he wanted to disappear into his oversized coat collar. Why was he wearing a coat anyway? It was a blissfully warm and fragrant spring night.

From the corner of her eye, Jester saw Veth’s eyes widen as she looked back and forth, like she was following a tennis match, between Caleb and Jester. 

“He was suuuuuch a gentleman,” Jester continued animatedly. “He picked up aaaaalllll my art supplies after I ran into him and spilled them _everywhere_.”

“Way to make a first impression, Jester,” snorted Beau.

Jester stuck her tongue out at Beau and blew a raspberry for good measure. Then she focused back on Caleb, who was red as a beet, and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Jester!” She flashed him her most dazzling smile.

After what felt like an eternity, he gently took her hand. Jester had never seen someone look so unsure of himself. She hoped she wasn’t making him uncomfortable. “Caleb… Widogast,” he murmured.

“Right, now that we’re all here… let’s drink!” Beau whirled and took off into the Invulnerable Vagrant, group in tow.

*****

Tonight was already a mistake. Caleb knew that to be a fact, despite only having been at the Invulnerable Vagrant for exactly two minutes and forty-two seconds. 

After waving to Pumat Sol behind the counter, Fjord made a gesture to indicate they would be heading outside to the back patio. There they grabbed a table underneath a gnarled cherry blossom tree just beginning to reach peak bloom. The newcomer — Jester — was openly delighted at the white-pink flowers and the fairy lights strung across the stone patio. The sun was setting, filling the sky with a cotton candy gradient of pinks, blues, and purples, and ushering in the night stars. 

“It’s soooo beautiful here, guys! I love it.”

“We come here way too much,” stated Beau.

“But it’s always nice to experience the things we love through a new friend’s perspective,” said Caduceus diplomatically, either ignoring or missing Beau’s exaggerated eye-roll.

“How often do you come here?” asked Jester. 

“Enough that ol’ Pumat knows exactly what we drink,” said Fjord with a grin.

As if summoned by Fjord, Pumat Sol, a middle-aged man as large as Caduceus but burlier and with a crown of frizzy curly brown hair, appeared with a tray full of drinks. As he passed them out, his eyes fell on Jester. “I couldn’t help but notice you have a new friend with you tonight, so I brought over a cocktail we’ve cooked up for the spring.” It was bright pink, fizzy, and looked as if someone had run a unicorn through a blender. Jester observed her drink with awe and snapped a photo with her phone.

Somehow Caleb had ended up sitting next to Jester, awkwardly clutching his mug of strong, malty stout. No wonder Veth had been so insistent he meet up for drinks. She and Beau had been planning to show Jester a warm welcome to Alfield, and they knew Caleb had to be coerced into making new friends. He had worked with Caduceus and Fjord at the hospital for two months before Beau announced they would all be hanging out — no ifs, ands, or buts.

Veth, Fjord, and Caduceus wanted to hear how Jester came to town, and Caleb listened intently as she wove her tale in a lilting accent. She was from Nicodranas, which explained the accent — Menagerie Coast. She had moved to Zadash to attend university with Beauregard, though Caleb could not imagine Jester, who seemed to radiate sunshine and rainbows, sharing close quarters with the cranky, belligerent young woman with whom Caleb currently lived.

Jester had double majored in art and psychology. “I wanted to be an artist,” she admitted with a shrug, “but this way I get to make art and help people, too.”

“That’s so sweet,” sighed Veth, clearly charmed by Jester. She wasn’t the only one. Over his half-drained beer, Caleb saw the way Fjord’s eyes sparked when Jester said “tech-ni-ca-llyyyy” as if it were four separate words. To his surprise, Caleb felt something sink in his chest.  _ Of course he likes her. He’s handsome and smooth, and she’s gorgeous and alive. You are a walking, putrid shell of the man you once were. You can’t even shave regularly or wear the right size jacket. Why would someone like her notice someone like you?  _

“Cayleb?”

He snapped out of his self-deprecating internal monologue to see Jester blinking at him, dark lashes fluttering over those unreal eyes. Had she been talking to him? “ _ Ja _ ?”

“I was asking where you’re from,” said Jester. A quick scan around the table informed Caleb that the others were engaged in different conversations. Veth and Caduceus were exchanging recipes, which was dangerous because Veth, as hard as she tried, was dangerous in the kitchen, and Beau and Fjord were laughing and quoting lines from a comedy program they both watched on television.

_ She’s just being nice. Don’t get used to it _ . “A small town up north.” Up north. Near Rexxentrum. Where he did not want to return. Ever.

“Oh, I was just wondering because you sometimes speak in a different language.”

Why was she trying to draw him out? Did she not see the loathsome creature he was? He should not have come. Though perhaps this was a fair punishment for his many sins — dangling something so pure and unattainable in front of him as if he stood even a scrap of a chance.

He took a last swig of beer. “Zemnian.”

“Huh?”

“My native tongue. It’s Zemnian.”

“Ohhhh. So that’s why you say ‘yah’ and ‘shyzzer,’” Jester said with a small giggle. 

Her own Menagerie Coast trill mangled the pronunciation, but it was the most enchanting thing Caleb had ever heard. He couldn’t help it. He smiled, full and for real. 

He thought he caught a glint in Jester’s eye. “There!”

“There what?”

“I made you smile.”

“ _ Ja _ . I suppose you did.”

“You should smile more often, Cayleb.” 

Never mind. His name on her lips was the most perfect sound he had ever heard. He wanted,  _ needed _ , to hear it again. Whispered. Moaned into his mouth. Gasped as he trailed kisses up her—

_ You are sick, Widogast.  _

“Is that so?” he asked.

“Yaaaaah!”

“Hey, lovebirds, what you talkin’ about over there?"

With Beau’s interjection, the moment was over, and Caleb sank back into himself.

*****

They said their goodbyes to Caduceus and Ford at the Invulnerable Vagrant before piling into Caleb’s car. Beau believed she had artfully swindled Caleb into giving Jester a ride as well as Veth. The truth was it hadn’t taken any convincing at all.

After they dropped off Veth at her modest house, Beau tipsily sprawled across the backseat of Caleb’s old sedan, on the edge of falling asleep as she complained how Yasha had said she would try to make an appearance but never showed. Jester and Caleb exchanged a knowing glance. Clearly Jester had heard about the buff private trainer Beau regularly fell over herself to impress.

Twenty minutes later, they were in front of Jester’s apartment building, a small but cozy brick walk-up with white shutters and window boxes. 

Perhaps it was the slight amount of alcohol in his veins that compelled Caleb to walk Jester to her door. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said firmly to Beau, who was drooling on the seat serving as her pillow, before exiting the vehicle and taking the keys with him — just in case.

As they approached her door, Jester thanked Caleb for the ride. “It was reeeally sweet of you. I tooo-tally could have hailed a ride or something.” 

“It was no trouble at all, Jester,” he assured her gently. 

“Weeeell, it was super nice of you anyway, Cayleb.”

He almost let himself believe Jester didn’t want to say goodnight either. He nearly allowed himself to imagine a world in which their voices grew quieter, heavy with expectation, before he leaned in to capture her full lips with his own in the penumbra of the streetlights. 

Almost. But not quite. Because he did not deserve good things. Nor did he deserve sweet, stolen moments after romantic chance encounters. Those were for other men. Other people. Not Caleb.

“Goodnight, Jester.”

“Goodnight, Cayleb,” she answered. And perhaps it was just his wishful imagination that longed to break free of the shackles that held him back, but he thought he almost detected the softest, saddest note of disappointment in her voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter is coming a day earlier than anticipated — enjoy! Look for weekly updates on Wednesdays. Also, I've plotted out 20 chapters, so buckle up!


	3. Fire and the Flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, y'all are just the sweetest... and I have no willpower... and time has no meaning anymore. So here's another chapter a day early. Trying to give myself a buffer of one to two chapters, so we're still in a good place. THANK YOU for reading and commenting! It's really helping me out during this nutty time.
> 
> Chapter title from "Fire and the Flood" by Vance Joy. Stay safe and stay healthy, friends. xoxo

Voicemail from Jester Lavorre (7:21)

_ Hi, mama!! How are you? I miss you soooooo much! I’m sorry I didn’t call after work yesterday, but I got dinner with Beau and then we went to this bar that was suuuuper cool and the owner is soooo tall and soooo nice and made me a cherry blossom drink, you know how those are my favorites, next to sunflowers of course, but they were so pretty all around the patio and then the fairy lights and— _

Voicemail from Jester Lavorre (7:23)

_ And I got to meet Beau’s friends and they’re the best!! Caduceus is craaaa-zy tall and a pediatrician and has the best pink hair that is so bright, I tooooo-tally want to ask him what products he uses and if he has a stylist in town or if he does it himself, oh my gosh that would be soooo cool to have a friend who dyes hair!! And Fjord is also tall and soooo handsome and stroooong, I mean it’s ridiculous, and he’s a nurse at the hospital and is suuuper polite and charming— _

Voicemail from Jester Lavorre (7:25)

_ And Veth is the cuuuuutest, I already love her so much, she was the one who gave me a tour of the hospital yesterday and we’ve already got plans to meet up for coffee because she’s the receptionist so I get to see her aaaaaaall the time, and she’s funny and strange but in suuuuuch a good way. OH and I got to meet Beau’s roommate fiiiiiinally! It was sooooo embarrassing because I bumped into him at the hospital because I was running because I was late— _

Voicemail from Jester Lavorre (7:27):

_ Anywaaaay, his name is Caleb and he’s suuuuper mysterious and has suuuuper pretty bright red hair and a scruffy beard, OH and did I mention he’s a DOCTOR? Well, teeeeeech-ni-cal-ly he’s a surgeon but the apple thing tooo-tally still counts because I asked him about it and he turned reeeeally red, and then he gave me and Veth rides home and was soooo sweet and walked me to my door like a gentleman, mama, you’d LOVE him and— _

Voicemail from Jester Lavorre (7:29):

_ Anyhoooo, I just wanted to let you know everyone is soooo nice and I’m already having the best time ever, but I also miss you sooooo much and want to know how you’re doing and how your voice lessons are going and if you’ve gotten any new students and how you’re feeling because I hope you’re doing better because I love you so, so, so much and I miss you but I’ll call you tomorrow because I have Saturdays off and want to talk to you and— _

Voicemail from Jester Lavorre (7:31):

_ Your little sapphire loves you sooooooo much, MWUAHH!! _

*****

“Beauregard.”

“What?”

“Stop glowering at me and ask me what it is you want to ask me.”

Caleb sat in the reclining chair in his and Beau’s living room, open book in his lap and steaming mug of tea in his hand. Above his head, Frumpkin stretched out along the top of the seat’s back. At the sound of Caleb’s voice, the ginger tabby blinked sleepily and meowed. 

Beau, who was taking calls (or “taking calls”) from home that morning, occupied the kitchen. Her inherent kinetic energy was such that Beau could not sit for long, preferring instead to work standing up, laptop precariously perched on any nearby surface. 

“I’m not glowering at you, dude.”

“You are glowering.”

“Fine,” Beau conceded, pouring her third cup of coffee that morning into a mug that read “BITCH FUEL” in blocky font — Caleb’s gift to her for Winter’s Crest. Beau drank out of it every day. “Have fun last night?”

Caleb’s eyes lowered to his book, and he reached up behind his shoulder to scritch behind Frumpkin’s ear, earning Caleb a contended purr “ _ Ja _ . I did. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Caleb doubted that but allowed his attention to be reabsorbed by his book.

“You working today?”

“Not today, Beauregard.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Interest piqued, Caleb glanced up again at Beau, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I mean,” Beau started, rubbing the back of her neck, which Caleb knew to be a nervous tick of hers, before giving up. “Forget it.”

“Ok.”

“Looked like you and Jester were getting on at Pumat’s.”

Caleb tried to avoid pulling a face that could have been the equivalent of a vinyl record scratch. Good thing he had already set his tea down on the coffee table. Even from Beau’s place in the kitchen, Caleb could see the right corner of her lip draw back ever so slightly.  _ Arschloch _ . What else had she noticed?

Taking in a measured breath through his nose, Caleb prepared to lie through his teeth. “ _ Ja _ , well, Jester is quite nice.” At least that part wasn’t a lie. Not even close.

“And cute.”

Unbidden, the memory of Jester locking eyes with him under the streetlights the evening before came to mind. The hot rush of blood Caleb felt spreading across his cheeks threatened to give him away. Was Beau trying to murder him slowly through embarrassment? “That is your assessment.”

“You don’t think Jester’s pretty?”

“ _ Nein _ , I mean… she is…” Caleb thought he might pass out from mortification. “She is... lovely.”

Beau sat back against her new perch on the countertop, seemingly pleased with his response. Good. Perhaps now she would leave him alone.

“She’s sing- ah shit, I have to take this.” 

Mercifully, Beau double-tapped on her right earbud to answer a work call, permitting Caleb the opportunity to slink away to his bedroom with his book, his tea, and his cat. 

*****

_ (14:52) Unrecognized Number: hey, it’s Fjord! Beau’s friend from last night. hope you don’t mind she gave me your number because i wanted to invite you to a movie night Cad and i are throwing together tomorrow _

_ (15:12) Jester Lavorre: hi!!! i don’t mind at all!!! i would love to come!!! _

_ (15:18) Fjord Stone: great! movie starts at 8 but thought everyone could come around 7 to eat some dinner. Cad’s cooking _

_ (15:27) Jester Lavorre: perfect!!! i’ll bring dessert!!!! _

_ (15:29) Fjord Stone: cool. will send the address :) _

_ (15:38) Jester Lavorre: yay!!!!!! _

*****

Jester had to hand it to Caduceus. His cooking was phenomenal. They ate homemade ramen bowls with dozens of fresh fixings and steaming broth. Most, including Jester, had gone back for seconds. 

Jester had brought bear claws from a bakery near the Invulnerable Vagrant. “You have to cover them in cinnamon though,” she insisted, vigorously shaking the spice from the jar Caduceus had lent her over the pastries before allowing anyone to touch them. “That’s how we eat them in Nicodranas.”

As they munched and chatted, Jester watched Caleb cling to the shadows of the room. He didn’t eat much, which was probably why he was so skinny, and he seemed to be waiting for others to finish before serving himself what little food he took. His shoulders appeared to hold constant tension, and his eyes darted back and forth as if he was scoping out an emergency exit whenever someone spoke too loudly. As if he was looking for an escape, though from what Jester could not have guessed.

Jester wondered what had him so on edge — not just tonight. All the time. She had only seen him a total of three times, but Jester had the sense Caleb’s natural state was ill at ease. Though she was still new to her chosen career, Jester had been working long enough to spot when someone was trying to run away from the things haunting them. That realization made her feel remarkably sad. He was such a nice person. He deserved better. He deserved some happiness.

“Ok, folks,” Fjord called the group to attention after they had finished eating. “Thoughts on movies?”

“Something bloody,” Beau said with relish, making Jester cackle from where she was sprawled on the couch, legs crossed over her former roommate’s lap.

“We just ate, so I’m going to veto that suggestion,” answered Fjord. “Anyone else?”

“Romantic comedy!” 

There were some groans at Jester’s recommendation.

To quell any further arguments, Fjord made the executive decision that they would be watching an action film — one with lots of cars that went very fast and jumped entire buildings. As he popped in the disk — because of course Fjord was the kind of person to collect DVDs when everything was digital — Beau wondered out loud why he would solicit suggestions if he already knew what they were going to watch. Soon though, the group settled into the movie, lulled into silence by cheap dialogue and the hypnotic sounds of a dubstep soundtrack and  _ vroom, vroom, screeeeeeech! _

About halfway through, Jester, small of bladder, pulled herself off the couch and walked toward the hallway, ambling in what she hoped was the direction of the bathroom.

She passed a closed door, which Jester opened quietly after glancing back to see she wasn’t being watched. Curiosity tended to get the best of her. The room was too dark to see anything aside from the outline of furniture. Nothing special. Jester closed the door silently and ventured onward.

A soft, purple-pink light spilled from an open door ahead. Called by its beauty, Jester tiptoed forward and discovered a room draped with printed fabrics and brimming with potted plants. On the bedside table sat a rose-colored salt lamp, and a hanging lamp above the bed glowed like an amethyst. This oasis had to be Caduceus’ room.

Delighted, Jester took a few more steps inside. It couldn’t hurt to take a closer look...

*****

Caleb couldn’t say he was upset to be missing the movie. While Fjord had many redeeming qualities, his abysmal taste in films was not among them. To be fair though, Caleb did not watch many movies. He could not remember the last time he had sat in a movie theater. If it weren’t for Beau, Caleb probably would not own a television.

As he padded quietly down the hallway toward the bathroom, a slight movement in Caduceus’ room caught his eye. Caleb went rigid, heart pounding against his chest, until he connected what he saw with Jester’s disappearance from the living room. 

Immediately, Caleb felt as if he were intruding, even though Jester was the one snooping in Caduceus' bedroom. He should have looked away and continued to the bathroom. Instead, he watched Jester gently sit on the edge of the bed and reverently run her hand over the comforter. She closed her eyes, and though Caleb could not see her face in its entirety, he recognized the emotion suffusing her as one he was only too familiar with.

Grief.

Stunned, Caleb could not pull his eyes from Jester. She was so bright. So vivacious. So alive. Yet something — or someone — had left her hurting and, equally heartbreaking, hiding her hurt. 

Without thinking, he was moving toward her. “Jester, are you alright?”

Jester gasped, and Caleb was flooded with regret. He shouldn’t have bothered her.  _ What could a broken man like you possibly offer her?  _ “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said softly, shrinking like a dog receiving a scolding. 

Jester managed a small, tight smile — nothing like the broad, toothy grins Caleb had witnessed her give freely. “I was looking for the bathroom, but I guess I got kinda sidetracked.”

“Knowing Caduceus, I don’t think he would mind.”

Jester nodded, dropping her gaze back to where her hand rested on the bedspread. “It’s just,” she began after a moment of silence, “this room reminds me a bit of someone I used to know.”

“ _ Ja _ ?”

She hummed in response. “Colorful.”

Caleb shifted uncomfortably during the quiet that followed. He felt compelled to say something — to help raise her spirits or give her some peace.  _ She deserves someone strong, not weak and cowardly.  _ Yet he couldn't just leave her alone to be consumed by her heavy heart.

And before he could stop himself, Caleb sat down on the edge of the bed, knees perilously close to Jester’s, which were bare under the hem of her flowing, floral skirt.

“Jester.”

“Yes, Cayleb?”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

The dimpled smile she gifted him with was like the sun parting through a dark clouds. He had done that. Him. Caleb. Human disaster. Lost cause. Waste of space. Destroyer of lives. To his disbelief, he had done something right.

“Not right now.”

“Oh.” Chastened, he looked away, attempting to hide how he winced at her words.  _ That’s what you get for prying. _

Then Jester’s hands were on his, gentle yet strong, with yellow and green and orange paint under her fingernails and peeking out from her cuticles. “Cayleb,” she said, “thank you. Thank you for caring enough to ask.”

Her thumb was moving in circles over Caleb’s own rough, cold skin. It was sweet but so much, too much. But also not enough — so, so not enough to satisfy the hungry flame that had come to life in his hollow chest only two days ago when they had met by accident at the hospital. 

“Cayleb?”

“ _ Ja _ ?”

“I reeeeeally need to pee.”

He couldn’t help it — a light chuckle escaped him. “Go ahead.”

“Ok,” Jester said, sliding off the bed and heading for the hallway. At the door frame, though, she paused before looking back at him, her figure silhouetted in bluish light from the movie playing in the living room. “Cayleb?”

He would never tire of hearing his name on her lips. " _Ja_?"

“Thanks again.”


	4. Safe to Say, You Blinded Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm trash and need affirmation. Here's the next chapter two days early. Please consider leaving a comment!
> 
> Chapter title from "Speak Too Soon" by Wild Rivers.

After the weekend, Jester returned to the hospital eager to dive back into her work — and to see her new friends. Incredibly, all except for Beau worked at Alfield General. Now that was luck.

She caught Veth’s eye on her way in and waved warmly. “Good morning, Veth!”

“Good morning, Jester,” Veth responded, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “We missed you at movie night on Saturday.”

“What? But I was there.”

“Oh right,” said Veth, pausing for effect and to take a swig from the tall, battered to-go mug next to her computer keyboard. “It’s just that we didn’t see you for so long, I was starting to get worried. And then Caleb disappeared too…” One of Veths’ dark, thick eyebrows shot up accusingly.

Jester felt herself redden. “Right! You see, I got a little lost and ended up in Caduceus’ bedroom.” The words tumbled out of her, rushed and self-conscious. “And then Caleb came along and—”

“There’s no need to explain,” Veth stopped Jester, mouth curling into an amused and omniscient smile. Nothing got past her. “Are you coming to lunch today?”

“Lunch?”

“We all try to eat together in the cafeteria around one. It doesn’t always work out, but I need to make sure these boys eat. Especially Caduceus. He’s quite skinny, you know.”

Jester had noticed. Almost gaunt, Caduceus had the frame of a vegan yoga instructor two weeks into a juice cleanse. Caleb was also rather slight, not that it was a problem. In fact, Jester thought he— oh boy, time to stop obsessing about a certain ginger-haired surgeon.

“So you’ll come?”

Jester nodded, grateful to already be invited to things like group lunches and movie nights. While she had enjoyed being back home with her mother after college, Jester had missed having a group of friends who desired her presence. Feeling wanted like that was addictive, and being separated by distance and professional obligations resulted in its own sort of withdrawal. But now she could feel that bright and shiny way again. Once more, Jester could open her heart to allow it to be full.

“Wonderful,” Veth said with a toothy grin and a tap on her mouse to wake her screen up. “We’ll see you then.”

*****

After wrapping up his third surgery of what was turning out to be a busier than usual day, Caleb had half a mind to text Veth to say he would not be joining her, Caduceus, and Fjord for lunch. Of course, at precisely the moment he had this thought, Caleb’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. 

_ (12:54) Veth Brenatto: you’re coming to lunch right? _

_ (12:55) Caleb Widogast: I’ve been rather busy today. _

_ (12:55) Veth Brenatto: you need to eat!!!!!!! _

_ (12:56) Caleb Widogast: I will eat. _

_ (12:56) Veth Brenatto: you won’t. i know you _

That Veth did. 

Caleb  _ was _ hungry. Fine. He would join Veth for lunch. Sometimes the woman was a drill sergeant, but she was a dear friend always. Caleb counted himself lucky, though never deserving, to have Veth in his life. 

Five minutes later, Caleb had degowned and slipped his white coat back over his scrubs. The morning before he had discovered a hole in the pocket of his coat where the switching had worn thin from all the times Caleb had hidden his hands for lack of a better place to put them. It really was time to replace the damn thing. He’d put an order in one of these days…

The cafeteria was packed. Caleb’s anxiety began to bubble up. Perhaps he could convince Veth to start eating later rather than during peak lunch time, if only to avoid so many people.

“Cayleb!”

His head snapped reflexively in the direction of the voice. Not Veth’s. Jester’s. There she was, seated at a high-top table, bare legs dangling distractingly in the span between her seat and the metal bar where her feet rested. She was waving expectantly at him.

With a mind of their own, Caleb’s feet deposited him at the seat opposite Jester’s. “I did not expect you to be joining,” he admitted, wanting to take back the stupid, unthinking words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Oh.” 

“ _ Nein _ , sorry… I meant to say…” What had he meant to say?  _ Dummkopf _ . “I’m… happy to see you.”

Jester brightened, looking much like a flower tilting heavenward to drink in the sun. It hurt him to look at her when she projected such joy — and at the simplest and stupidest of words from the simplest and stupidest of men. Perhaps she was being extra nice to him because she saw him for what he was. Doctor Caleb Widogast: charity case 

“Veth invited me. I hope that’s ok.”

_ Veth… _

“You are always welcome, Jester.”

“Good,” she said in a pleased staccato. “Are you going to eat?”

“Um… yes?”

“Then you miiight want to grab some food.”

“Right.”

Caleb excused himself to filter through the lunch line, returning to the table with a sandwich — possibly turkey, though he had been preoccupied with wondering what he would say to Jester — and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips.

“No dessert?” Jester asked, surveying Caleb’s tray. Jester’s had a blondie and one of those cookies with the colored candy pieces in it alongside her half-devoured grilled cheese.

“To be honest, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

Jester’s jaw went slack. “ _ NO _ sweet tooth?”

“Well, not  _ no _ sweet tooth. I just don’t crave sweet things usually?” He shrugged.

“Soooo… what things do you crave then, Cayleb?”

_ You _ .  _ Sheisse _ . 

“Hm,” Caleb pondered aloud. “Perhaps something salty then.”

“Like popcorn?”

“Sure. Popcorn is good. And those soft pretzels at festivals and sports games. With mustard.”

“Oooo, I like bread, too! But wait.” She studied him for a few seconds. “You like sports?”

Caleb couldn’t stop himself from chuckling, and he thought he noticed the left corner of Jester’s full lips turn up. “ _ Nein _ . But Fjord and Beauregard do. Beauregard had an extra ticket to a baseball game in Zadash months back. So she asked me.”

“Did you like it?”

“It wasn’t quite my speed.” 

Jester took a bite of her sandwich. Caleb did the same, and silence fell over the table as they ate, the din of mess hall conversations and clattering cutlery welcome white noise despite Caleb’s earlier misgivings. 

Jester spoke first. “What do you like then?”

“What do I like?”

“Mmhmm,” Jester hummed. “Like when you’re not, y’know, doing surgeon-y things.” 

Her question reminded him of his conversation with Veth the other day when she had interrogated him about what he did on days when he was not at the hospital to prove how Caleb needed to get out and be more sociable. “I read a bit.” More than a bit. “And I have a cat, too.”

“That’s right! I’ve seen him on video calls with Beau. He’s sooooo cute! What’s his name? It’s a ‘he,’ right?”

Now this was a subject Caleb could talk for hours on. “Frumpkin. And yes, he’s a he.”

Jester made a high-pitched, strangled noise that Caleb hoped was because she was pleased with Fumpkin's name. “That is toooooo cuuute! I want to meet him.”

Caleb froze. The idea of Jester in his house — the house he shared with Beauregard, but still — filled him with a desire he couldn’t name. Yes, yes, Caleb wanted that as well. He wanted Jester to spend time in the space he had come to call his, to fill up the corners and grooves of the place where he read his books and made his meals (though not as often as he should have) and cuddled his cat and laid his head. To transfigure the hollowness gnawing at him with the magic trailing in her wake. To make the place he resided more than an address on a windowed billing envelope from the WiFi provider. 

Yes. He wanted that as well.

“You should.” No. No, no, no. He could not have uttered those words. Out loud. To Jester. An invitation. An  _ open _ invitation to come visit.  _ To see your cat, you fool. _ Still.

“I would love that,” Jester said without hesitation — so quickly she seemed surprised at herself. 

Caleb blinked twice at her, disbelievingly. “Ok.”

An awkward pause followed before Jester leaned across the table. “Soooo… you should probably have my number.”

“Right.  _ Ja _ .” Caleb unlocked his phone and handed it to Jester, who began to tap her name and number into his contacts. 

What was he doing? This wasn’t him. This was someone else, someone long forgotten. A ghost among the living bearing a name Caleb no longer answered to lest he unlock memories better left untouched. Misdeeds tucked away in the lead-lined box of his mind. Yet when Caleb saw how Jester beamed as she handed his phone back to him, and when he felt the tingle of electricity pass through his fingers as they brushed against hers, the voice in his head went mute for the first time in too long.

“Hey, you two,” Fjord greeted them, placing a tray on the table between Caleb and Jester and taking a seat. “Sorry I’m late. Was helping out with rounds in the ICU. New batch of interns couldn't find a vein if it poked 'em in the eye. What did I miss?”

“Hi, Fjord,” chirped Jester. “We were talking about Cayleb’s cat.”

While Fjord made a sound like his throat was closing up at the mere mention of Frumpkin, Caleb slipped his phone under the table as stealthily as he could, unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts. 

There she was. Under “L” for Lavorre. But her contact name was not just “Jester Lavorre.” That would have been too plain for her. Instead, Caleb marveled at how precious he found the emojis next to her name. A lollipop and two hearts — one orange and one blue.

*****

_ (14:21) Jester Lavorre: hi!!!! it was super nice having lunch with you :) we should totally do that again _

_ (14:23) Jester Lavorre: ps i need your address!!!! _

_ Sheisse _ . Caleb was in trouble.

*****

Jester finally met Frumpkin that Thursday, a full week since she had first collided with Caleb. Jester decided she liked Thursdays because of the promise they held.

After wrapping up her final group session, she texted Beau to make sure someone would be home when Jester arrived and unlocked her magenta-colored bike — the prettiest and least boring of any locked to the rack in the hospital parking garage.

In her excitement, Jester had plugged Caleb and Beau’s address into the map app on her phone at least a dozen times, memorizing her chosen route. She pedaled along, synthy pop flowing through her earbuds as she left the hospital behind, passed the business improvement district and the Invulnerable Vagrant, and found herself at her destination — a quiet but dense street of row houses — in a little over fifteen minutes. Jester had broken a sweat along the way and paused on the narrow lawn inside the bounds of a black metal gate to air out by flapping her skirt around her thighs. Not enticing, but necessary.

Beau had responded to Jester’s text message to say she was home but to knock loudly because the doorbell was busted. Within thirty seconds of Jester pounding incessantly and calling out “let me in, let me in, let me in,” Beau answered the door.

“Wow, that’s not annoying at all, Jess.” But Jester knew Beau was glad to see her. 

Jester watched as a lithe but fluffy orange cat regarded at her with wide yellow eyes before darting from the living room and up the staircase behind Beau. 

“Kitty, no! Come baaaaack!” Jester cried, disappointed she had frightened Frumpkin before even meeting him. 

“Nah, he does that to new people,” Beau explained. “He’ll crawl out when Caleb gets back. Want something to drink?”

Beau provided drinks — a beer for herself and sweet tea made from a powdered mix for Jester — and they sprawled on the L-shaped couch in the living room. Their catching up was soon interrupted by the scraping sound of Caleb’s key in the front door. As if on queue, Frumpkin flew down the stairs and, to Jester’s amazement, leapt gracefully onto Caleb’s shoulders, purring so loudly Jester could hear him from across the room. 

“Cayleb, your cat ran away from me!”

“Oh, well, he’s quite shy,” Caleb told her with a sheepish smile of his own. “How was your day?”

“Long,” answered Beau without missing a beat.

“Hello, Beauregard.”

“‘Sup, Caleb? Any gross surgeries today?”

“Just the normal amount of viscera, I’m afraid.”

Jester giggled, entertained by Beau and Caleb’s back and forth. They had a certain rhythm — quirky but steady, and usually comical. Beau’s brashness was tempered by Caleb’s quiet introversion, and Jester sensed Beau had played no small part in drawing Caleb out of his shell. They were a good match, even if Beau complained about how Caleb never vacuumed up the Frumpkin furballs Beau said floated across the hardwood floors like little tumbleweeds. 

Caleb dropped his shabby leather messenger bag by the pile of shoes near the door and moved into the living room. “Would you like to pet Frumpkin?” he asked Jester, giving the cat a scratch under his white chin. Frumpkin responded by closing his eyes and tipping his head upward in catlike ecstasy. 

Jester nodded excitedly, and Caleb sat near her on the couch, though he was still too far away from Jester to allow her to easily pet the cat — and for other reasons. So she closed the distance, walking on her knees until she bumped against Caleb’s legs. As she timidly raised her fingers for Frumpkin to sniff, Jester noticed color spread across Caleb’s pale cheeks. She bit back a devilish grin and glanced at Caleb for permission.

“Go ahead.”

Frumpkin seemed to take Caleb’s words as direction. The cat touched his pink nose to the tips of Jester’s fingers before rising from Caleb’s shoulders to rub his cheek against Jester’s hand. Then Frumpkin, sensing a friend, hopped into Jester’s lap, purrs rolling from his warm body like gentle peals of thunder. 

Jester gasped. “He likes me!”

“He has good taste,” said Caleb with a note of affection, though it was likely for the cat making biscuits against Jester’s skirt. 

“Uh, I’m gonna… grab something… upstairs… yeah.” Beau catapulted herself over the back of the couch and raced up the stairs before Jester even had time to register what her friend had said, leaving Jester alone with Caleb. And Frumpkin. But alone in the quiet as a warm spring crossbreeze blew in peacefully from the open windows. 

“You never answered my question.”

“Hm?” Jester could not stop gliding her hand along Frumpkin’s silky coat. Perhaps for the best, as he did not appear to want Jester to discontinue what she was doing.

Caleb leaned back into the plump cushions, stretching his long arms above his head. Jester noted how Caleb seemed more comfortable here than at the hospital.  _ Of course he does. This is his home _ . But it was more than that, Jester thought. Here in the safety of familiarity, Jester watched as some of Caleb’s defenses lowered. Some, but not all. Every now and then, Jester watched Caleb’s eyes flit over to the slim gap between their legs.

“How was your day?”

Oh, right. “It was soooo great,” Jester chirped. “I had a group of little kids, and we did finger painting. And I think there was some suuuuper good progress.”

Caleb smiled thoughtfully. “That sounds messy.”

“But fun!”

“But fun,” he repeated. “I remember you mentioning you wanted to do your own art. Do you still?”

“Sometimes,” answered Jester, adjusting her position to ease the stress on her lower back. Her body was still getting used to days spent on her feet and bending over tables. As if reading her mind, Caleb handed Jester a dull green throw pillow, which she accepted and placed behind her. Much better. “I really looove to paint, but I haven’t found something reeeally inspiring yet.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Weeeell...” Jester thought for a moment. “There was that cherry blossom tree at the bar last week. It was soooo beautiful, all gnarly and twisted but covered in those beauuutiful pink and white blossoms.” She shrugged. “But I’m not sure I can paint it from memory, and it’s probably past peak bloom anyway.” Indeed, that tree had so captured Jester’s imagination, it had appeared in several of her dreams over the past week. A few of those dreams had featured the man sitting near her... 

Caleb went quiet and glanced down as if debating whether to say what was on his mind. “Do you want to see something?”

With Frumpkin in her arms, Jester followed Caleb across the living room to the back of the house where there was a small, hidden sunroom off of the galley kitchen. Caleb led her to the wide window made of a single pane of glass, but Jester had already caught sight of what he meant to show her. It obviously wasn’t the same tree, but it absolutely was another cherry blossom tree. Though not yet in bloom, Jester noted the compact green buds, some of which were beginning to unfurl into soft pink tufts.

“Oh, Cayleb,” sighed Jester. “It’s going to be so beautiful.”

“I only moved in six months ago, so this will be my first time seeing it. But…  _ ja _ . It will be beautiful, if fleeting.”

Jester nodded. Yes, fleeting. But there was the promise of next year. “I’ve always thought they were magical,” she admitted to him. “Because for just a little while, everyone stops to watch as the world comes back to life. And you can almost forget everything. Just for a minute.” 

Silence followed, but not the awkward kind. The weighty, purposeful kind shared by kindred spirits. 

“Jester?”

“Yes, Cayleb?”

“You should paint here.”

*****

Jester set up her easel and paints in the sunroom the next afternoon. Soon, she was spending more time at Caleb and Beau’s house than in her own apartment. 

Nearby, Caleb read on a plastic lawn chair he had ordered online minutes after Jester had ridden off on her bike on the evening she met Frumpkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should explain why there are cherry blossoms all over this fic so far. I live in the D.C. metro region, and anyone who lives here will tell you the most beautiful season is, by far, spring — mainly because of those little pink wonders that come out for just a little while every year and turn everything into a fairytale. Unfortunately, this year is different. It's a small thing to miss out on, I know, and we're all trying to do our part to flatten the curve and protect each other... but my heart broke a little bit when I realized I wouldn't be able to walk under them around the Tidal Basin.
> 
> Thankfully, there's a little tree outside my bedroom window — and it was incredibly beautiful when it bloomed.
> 
> Anyway, stay safe and don't forget to live each other. xoxo


	5. What Doesn’t Kill Me Makes Me Want You More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a Tuesday again because patience only goes so far in self-isolation... thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos — I so appreciate it! You are wonderful.
> 
> Chapter title is from "Cruel Summer" by Taylor Swift... but do yourself a favor and listen to "Bees" by Ballroom Thieves when it switches to Caleb's POV. **wink**

_ (10:12) Jester Lavorre to group: to the festival!!!!!! _

On a blazingly hot Saturday morning, Jester and her new friends flocked to Alfield’s business improvement district to take part in the annual Summer’s Zenith Festival. Though normally bustling, the borough was brimming with the people of Alfield as well as many visitors from the other towns outside of Zadash. They came for the carnival games, the farmers and artisans market, wine and ale tastings, and all other kinds of revelry. Jester was especially looking forward to the fireworks display at dusk, but there was much to do and see before then.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she exclaimed with wonder as they passed a canopied stall bursting with colorful scarves, embroidered fabrics, beaded handbags, and woven rugs. “Everything looks soooo beautiful!”

“I don’t know about y’all, but Beau and I are headed straight for the Victory Pit,” said Fjord. “Yasha, you in?”

“You know I am,” answered the stoic woman with height and muscles to rival any contender in the Victory Pit. Her busy schedule had cleared up enough for Jester to finally meet the famous Yasha Nydoorin. One look at Yasha and Jester finally understood why Beau had spent the last year pining after the personal trainer. Yasha was enormous, buff, and beautiful — the kind of woman who could kick your ass across town with one hand tied behind her back. It was easy to picture Yasha clad in dark armor, her raven hair braided like a warrior goddess, striding confidently across a field and unsheathing a wicked two-handed blade as heavy metal music wailed in the background. Beau certainly had a type.  Behind her bright red, heart-shaped sunglasses, Jester watched Beau vibrate with intense excitement that was uncommon for her and entirely thanks to Yasha’s presence. 

No shame there. Jester was in the same boat.

Though there was still an arm’s length in between Jester and Caleb, it was the closest they had been since that day on the couch with Frumpkin more than a month ago. Since then, Jester had completed her painting of the cherry blossom tree in Caleb and Beau’s backyard, but had continued to return as often as she could. Some weeks, Jester nearly lived with them.

A true homebody, Caleb spent his free time reading books at breakneck speed, though Jester noticed he turned pages less frequently when she engaged him in conversation. Her attempts had been mainly one-sided at first. If she were bothering him, Caleb would say something, Jester had reasoned. He didn’t. Instead, he started speaking with quiet candor, unfolding different, hidden facets of himself around her.  Over the last few weeks, Jester had discovered Caleb was funny. He would tease her, lightly and with such seriousness it had taken a while for Jester to realize his intent. She learned he loved folk music — the kind with soft voices, acoustic guitars, and yearning lyrics that lowered your blood pressure and made your heart swell. She found out that it took no more than four minutes for Caleb to become captivated by the reality shows she turned on television, because, Caleb argued, he could not fathom why any of the women on Jester’s favorite dating show actually wanted to be with the boneheaded male lead. She memorized by heart how he took his tea — no milk, leave the tea bag in, and just enough honey to cut the bitterness. 

She had even internalized his mannerisms — the ones he probably did not know were his. How he tapped his fingers in time with music, following the notes as if playing keys on a piano. Perhaps some remnant of past musical training? How in the fraction of a second before he laughed, the little lines around his eyes crinkled with silent mirth. How when he was nervous or anxious, he rubbed at his clothed forearms like he was scratching an itch. How he switched seamlessly into Zemnian when he was at his wits’ end, usually during arguments with Beau over whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher or vacuum the living room. How his long eyelashes fluttered over his blue eyes in the brief moments after his reading was interrupted. How he hyper focused with an unrivaled intensity symptomatic of both his profession and his insatiable desire to consume knowledge and comprehend ideas. The fantasy of him turning that same penetrating gaze on Jester made her knees quake. 

In the past few weeks, Jester also had noticed changes in Caleb — small but significant. He had started shaving regularly, revealing a cleft in his now visible chin, which Jester found to be dangerously distracting. When Caleb had come downstairs bereft of facial hair for the first time, Beau had screamed, “WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY ROOMMATE?” so loudly, Jester had laughed until her sides throbbed.  Caleb had also begun to show further signs of life in the company of their friends. At movie nights, he would offer to help Caduceus make popcorn over the stove and had even once suggested a film — Zemnian cinema with subtitles. While the idea was quickly axed — too depressing, Beau and Ford had groaned — it was a step for Caleb, and Jester had beamed with unspoken pride. When they congregated for happy hour at the Invulnerable Vagrant, Caleb now switched things up by ordering different beers, and Jester wasn’t sure if Pumat had yet recovered from the shock of Caleb asking Pumat to surprise him.

Witnessing Caleb emerge from the protective cocoon he had so carefully crafted around himself was exhilarating. Jester recognized how difficult it was for him to summon the courage to attempt anything outside of his comfort zone. Sometimes it was too painful to watch Caleb fight an inward battle with himself, wrestling with every urge demanding he retreat rather than allow himself to be vulnerable. Jester admired Caleb’s courage. Sometimes she envied it.

“What are you itchin’ to do, Jessie?” Fjord asked, tugging Jester out of her thoughts. “Victory Pit with us?”

“Yeah, wanna watch people beat the shit out of each other?” added Beau with dark enthusiasm.

Jester had read about the Victory Pit online, and while the promised combination of wrestling, boxing, and all-out brawling by professional fighters from over Wildemount sounded interesting, she felt more drawn to wander through the tented stalls of food and games.  “Maybe in a bit. I kinda want to look around first.”

“There was someone selling honey on the way in,” mentioned Caduceus, his face shaded underneath the brim of a floppy sun hat decorated with pink and yellow ribbons and fabric flowers. Though comically enormous in circumference, the hat was quite becoming over Caduceus’ long pink ponytail.

“Ooooo yes, let’s deeeefinitely go get some honey. And candy. And cupcakes!”

“I’ll go too,” Caleb volunteered.

“Your loss, dudes,” Beau called from over her shoulder as she spun around and rocketed toward a large tent where a large, boisterous crowd was gathering. Yasha followed closely.  _ Interesting _ . Before joining, Fjord confirmed he would text the group thread with their whereabouts, and that they would all reconvene for a round of drinks at the Invulnerable Vagrant after lunch.

On their way to the honey stall Jester asked Caleb when Veth would arrive.

“Later. Probably after lunch,” he said, side-stepping closer to Jester to avoid colliding with a gaggle of over-sugared children running the opposite direction. The hair on Jester’s arm stood up from the electricity of their proximity, and she was sure there was a slight hitch in her breath. It was only a shame that Caleb was inexplicably wearing a long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned over a t-shirt in the middle of summer. Some skin-to-skin contact wouldn’t have been terrible at all...

“Uh… sorry,” Caleb muttered, seeming to notice her reaction. Shit. Had she spooked him? “She and Yeza wanted to make sure Luc could make it through the fireworks.”

When Jester had learned Veth would be bringing both her son and husband to the festival, Jester had gone off like a bottle rocket. “I’m soooo excited to finally meet them! Especially Luc. Kids looove me, y’know.”

“That is not hard to believe,” Caleb said with a hint of amusement.

Jester beamed, clinging to his words as if they were an outright affirmation. “I’ll bet kids like you too.”

Caleb grimaced. “I would not be so sure about that.”

“But you’re sooo cool, Cayleb! And they would toootally want to play with your stethoscope.”

He laughed at that, and Jester preened. She wanted to shower Caleb with encouragement and affection until he thought of himself the way she thought of him.

“At least I have that going for me,” he conceded.

“And soooo much more.”

Caleb seemed taken aback by that, and it dawned upon Jester that she liked catching him off his guard, if only to watch him sputter with confusion. 

“You... are sweet,” he recovered enough to say while tucking back a strand of red hair that had escaped his smell, messy bun. That small gesture alone filled Jester with a sudden longing to slide her hands through Caleb’s hair. Combined with his words, though — that  _ you are sweet _ was a  lightning bolt straight to the pit of her stomach, one that filled Jester with such insatiable heat and want she had to turn her head away to take a calming breath.  _ Whoa, girl... _

Caleb waited patiently while Jester and Caduceus sampled and bought an irresponsible amount of honey and filled Caduceus’ cotton tote bag with their purchases. More exploring followed. Jester had not seen such a vibrant market outside of Nicodranas. Tents filled with vendors hawking their wares offered cool shelter from the sun’s heat. There was something for everyone — hammered metal jewelry and hand-sewn robes, artisanal cheeses and cured meats, glazed ceramics and soy candles, pickled vegetables and preserved fruits bursting with ripeness, tapestries bearing platinum dragons and felted tchotchkes in the shape of farm animals. And those were only the things Jester saw before her. The spectacle simultaneously assaulted and heightened her senses, and she wanted to experience everything.

Caduceus wandered off in search of cold drinks for them as Jester beckoned Caleb over to a row of carnival games. 

“You know these are all rigged,  _ ja _ ?”

“I still want to tryyyy, Cayleb!”

After Jester played a losing round of ring toss, she was able to cajole Caleb into joining her. Surprisingly, he had decent aim and managed to sink the majority of his neon plastic rings on the yawning bottlenecks arranged in a pyramid. 

The energetic woman running the game was impressed. “Pick your prize!”

Caleb gave Jester a lost look and shrugged. “You pick.”

That was how Jester wound up proudly wearing a plush purple weasel toy around her neck like a scarf for most of the day. 

“I’m going to name him Sprinkle,” she told Caleb as they rejoined Caduceus, who had returned with three plastic to-go cups of lemonade — organic, according to Caduceus. 

“Is that your way of telling us you would like to find cupcakes?” Caleb teased, a knowing, teasing smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Cayleb, you know me so well!”

They found a pastry vendor nearer to Pumat’s. Jester ordered a cupcake for each of her friends, including Yeza and Luc, though they were trickier to guess flavors for because Jester did not know them yet. Jester hoped they wouldn’t object to classic chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting and a healthy dusting of blue and gold sprinkles.  Jester picked each cupcake with care, matching unique flavors to her friends based on the characteristics she loved most about them. Boozy and punchy honey whiskey for Beau. Earthy, balanced matcha for Caduceus. Vanilla with an unexpectedly complex, floral lavender icing for Yasha. Nutty but wholesome toasted coconut for Veth. Fudgy chocolate with marshmallow filling for Fjord. Lemon blueberry with buttercream for Caleb — a classic with a zesty twist. And for herself... Jester selected lemon blueberry as well.

Before they met back up with the group, they ordered hearty falafel bowls loaded with flavorful fixings at a vegan food stall and ate on a picnic bench in the shade of the Alfield library.

At the Invulnerable Vagrant, Fjord and Beau regaled Jester, Caduceus, and Caleb with retellings of the matches they had witnessed in the Victory Pit. Perhaps it was the liveliness with which Beau and Fjord — with some occasional commentary from Yasha — narrated, but Jester almost wished she had caught some of the brawling. Almost… but then she reached up to pat Sprinkle’s fuzzy head, glancing subtly at a sun-flushed Caleb from the corner of her eye.

Pumat Sol, polite as always but harried from the spike in business, arrived with another round of drinks. Jester gratefully accepted a second sugary, bubbly virgin cocktail — Pumat had quickly caught on to her aversion to alcohol, incredibly without so much as a word from Jester. The man had a talent for reading people. Meanwhile, a gauzy daytime tipsiness washed over her friends. They laughed quicker, spoke louder, and grinned more often. Even Caleb.  They also cheered the arrival of Veth and her family, drawing glares from others in the bar. 

With his thick-rimmed glasses, long sideburns, and perpetually sheepish expression, Yeza Brenatto looked a bit like he had spent most of his life in the lab where Jester knew he worked. Around his shoulders, clinging like a monkey, was a small boy with shaggy brown hair, bright eyes, and a toothy smile. 

“Yeza, Luc, this is Jester,” Veth introduced them. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jester,” said Yeza, shaking Jester’s hand warmly. “Veth has told us so much about you.”

“Oh, honey, she doesn’t need to know that,” Veth chastised him gently.

Jester waved at Luc, who shrank bashfully against his father’s back. 

“He can be shy,” Yeza explained apologetically.

“That’s ok!” When faced with a challenge, Jester had a will to conquer. Good thing kids loved her — and she had loads of experience to rely on. Jester leaned across the table toward Luc and Yeza. “I have a suuuuper important question for you though, Luc.”

Luc didn’t respond, but Jester could tell she had sparked his curiosity. “Do… you… like… coloring?”

The littlest Brenatto nodded vigorously.

Jester let out a theatrical gasp, startling Fjord so much he began to choke on his beer. Yasha had to clap a large hand on his back to bring him down. “That’s AH-maaaazing! I looove coloring too! In fact… did you know that my job is baaaasically to help people color aaaaall day long?”

“Really?” Luc squeaked.

Jester bobbed her head. “Really.”

Mission accomplished.

When they left the Invulnerable Vagrant, Luc grabbed Jester’s hand and began pulling her toward the carnival games. They were tailed by Veth, Yeza, and Caleb, and the four adults took turns playing ring toss, water gun race, and a game with magnets attached to rods meant to represent fishing poles that absolutely delighted Luc because everyone was a winner. 

While Caleb was teaching Luc how to play skee-ball, Jester hoofed it over to where she had seen a vendor selling fresh soft pretzels. When she presented the oversized pretzel and little white paper cup of bright yellow mustard to Caleb, his brows shot up. 

“You remembered.”

“I can’t eat all of this by myself.” If she were being honest, Jester would have admitted to hating mustard. But for Caleb, she could stomach a little.

As the afternoon waned into early evening, Luc abruptly decided he needed cotton candy so blue it would stain his teeth and tongue. Jester approved. This kid clearly had his priorities straight. While Luc and Yeza stood in line, Caleb went in search of better cell service to check in at the hospital, leaving Jester and Veth drinking festival-provided water from flimsy plastic cups and sitting on a bench nearby.

“You’re very good with him, you know.”

“He’s wonderful,” said Jester. “Smart and sweet. You and Yeza must be sooo proud.”

“I was talking about Caleb, though I’m very proud of him, too.”

Oh. “Whoops!” Jester laughed. “I thought you meant Luc.”

“I knew you’d be great with Luc,” Veth said, waving her hand for emphasis. “You’re you. But… well…” She trailed off and appeared to struggle for words. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our Caleb... sometimes needs a little encouragement.”

Jester half-smiled and nodded to indicate she and Veth were on the same page.

“But,” Veth stated firmly, “he’s also kind and generous. And brilliant, too, did I mention that?”

“He’s suuuper smart.”

“And handsome.” Veth's stare could have nailed Jester to her seat.

Jester giggled nervously, though there was no sense in denying the obvious. “Yes, he’s veeeery handsome.”

Seeming satisfied with that answer, Veth drained the rest of her water and began to fiddle nervously with the plastic cup. “I owe Caleb a lot, you know.” 

“What do you mean?”

Veth took a long, deep breath, as if to steel herself. “Has he told you how we met — Caleb and me?”

Jester shook her head.

“One night there was… I wasn’t really sure what was happening, and there are parts I don’t remember. Probably the fear or shock. But something was wrong with Luc. He was in so much pain. It was all very sudden.”

Veth's hands were shaking. Jester reached over to take them in her own — so Veth would know she was not alone.

“I drove to the hospital — this was before I worked there — and carried Luc inside. And he was crying so much — we both were crying — and I couldn’t make it better. It was the m-middle of the night, and the receptionist was n-no help at all… I was s-so scared. But then there was a doctor…”

“Caleb?”

Veth bobbed her head and swallowed. “Caleb made it all better. He made my boy ok again. It was his appendix. Luc needed surgery. Apparently we’re born with parts that our bodies just don’t use anymore. Strange...” Veth faded out, her concentration fixed on Luc and Yeza, now paying for a gigantic bag of cotton candy. When she finally spoke again, her voice was a whisper. “I felt like a terrible mother.”

Jester squeezed Veth’s hands. “You are an amaaazing mother, Veth. You couldn’t have done any better.”

“He had a stomach ache the whole day,” Veth said, voice trembling. “I thought it wasn’t that serious.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Jester hoped Veth would believe her but knew what it was like to have your brain hijacked by trauma. Memories warped as blame and guilt set in like stains that couldn’t be laundered out. “And you did the right thing by bringing him to the hospital.”

“I’m telling you this, Jester, because I need you to understand. It’s not only that he saved my boy’s life, or that he got me my job at the hospital. It’s more than that. Caleb is my boy, too, and I love him.”

Jester was speechless, which was a good thing because Veth was not finished.

“I love him, and I want him to succeed in everything he does. But I also know he’s been hurt. I don’t know much of how or why. All I know is that I never want him to hurt again. And… and I don’t think you’ll hurt him. But I wanted to be sure you knew.”

Reflexively, Jester felt herself ready to brush off Veth’s assertion. But that would have been deceitful, and Veth, who had just bared her soul, didn’t deserve callousness. “I will try to not.”

Veth seemed placated, even bestowing a faint smile upon Jester. “I know.”

*****

When the sun disappeared from view, they spread massive picnic blankets furnished by Caduceus on the cool grass of the field that stretched out to the lake at the edge of the distant hills. 

Thankfully for Caleb, it had grown cooler. He had not been sure how much longer he could avoid reapplying more sunscreen — again. His case hadn't been helped by Veth, who, out of an overabundance of caution for Caleb, had set a timer on her phone and sent him texts reminding him to take care of his skin. "Veth, I am a doctor. I know," Caleb had texted back. Veth had responded by scowling at him until Caleb had finally relented and accepted a bottle of SPF 100 from her.

Meanwhile, his sun-soaked friends glistened. Even Yasha, who was somehow fairer than Caleb.  In the fading light, Caleb noticed how Jester continued to glow, her cheeks bursting with golden color. Caleb found it difficult to look away from her dark, freckled shoulders, which were on display under the delicate straps of her white sundress. Unable to help himself, his eyes trailed down her surprisingly toned arms, imagining how it would feel to run his fingers along her bare skin, still warm from the day. 

_ Because she wouldn’t be disgusted by an old man like you leering at her.  _

And yet… there she was, lounging, sandals off, on a mandala blanket beneath the stars as they flickered to life in the darkening sky. Next to Caleb. And also Beau, whose drunkenness had crossed over from day to night. Surely Beau’s head would ache the next morning, through Caleb was certain all of them would have some degree of festival hangover.  But it would be worth it, if just for this moment, he thought.  He had good friends — the best, really. The kind who wanted him around. He had a job that, while exhausting and filled with challenges, was fulfilling rather than soul taxing. And, for the first time in, well… Caleb couldn’t remember… he nursed in his battered soul a flame of hope that had been rekindled from smoldering embers by the arrival of a beautiful girl with blue-streaked hair and gemstone eyes and a dirty sense of humor that both tickled him and made him yearn to witness her unravel to his touch. 

Under Jester’s spell, Caleb had learned to laugh again. To count down days in anticipation and mark holidays instead of allowing them to pass by unrecalled. He felt a fool, of course, as he danced around her, desperate to resist and yet useless against her effortless magnetic pull that left him breathless, amazed, and terrified all at once. 

Useless.

The sky over the water exploded with colorful showers of sparks, and the “oohs” and “ahhs” of friends and strangers rippled around them. Caleb felt Jester tap his foot with her toes.

“You’ll hurt your neck,” she told him, waving her hand to indicate he should lay down. Beside her.

He did. And it was while he was on his back — as Jester, illuminated by the reds and blues and greens overhead, cozied up against him to point out a particularly brilliant burst, and as he felt her hot breath on his neck — that Caleb realized he really was useless. 

Uselessly in love with Jester Lavorre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this chapter's a beast... but the PINING. **wheeze**
> 
> Hope y'all are staying well and safe! Much love. xoxo


	6. Here in the Deep End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update's a bit of a weepy one. Don't worry — the next chapter has some fun... and maybe a birthday party! **wink**
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: mention of self-harm — please take care of yourselves!**
> 
> Chapter title is from "Someone Who Loves Me" by Sarah Bareilles.

“Soooo… you and Yasha were preeee-tty close at the festival…”

Despite the grimace marring Beau’s face, Jester could tell her friend was fighting the sort of silly grin born of spending an entire day, uninterrupted, with your crush and coming as close to cuddling as you could without actually cuddling beneath a sky full of fireworks. Or perhaps it was only Jester projecting on Beau. Unlikely.

A week after the Summer’s Zenith Festival, Beau and Jester finally had found time to slip away from their respective work and order sandwiches at the deli down the street from the hospital. Although it essentially was a hole in the wall with a door bearing a neon “OPEN” sign and a menu the length of a football field hung up above the counter, the deli made surprisingly good food and had quickly become one of Jester’s favorite places to eat in Alfield. _Beau should tooo-tally take Yasha here on a date._

“Youuuu liiiiike heeeerrrr!” 

“Ugh, shut up.” Beau pressed her face into her hands, ignoring her Marquesian combo with extra spicy peppers. “Fuck, I’m so screwed.”

“Why are you screwed?” To Jester, the pair seemed to get along swell, which was exactly what Beau had wanted all along. Why was getting closer a bad thing?

Beau looked up at Jester, watching as she sucked lemonade — which, sadly, was nowhere near as good as the lemonade Caduceus had found at the festival — through a jumbo red straw. “What if… I mean… you know I’m not the easiest person to be around.”

“That’s ridiculous,” defended Jester with a dramatic frown. “You are the best person to be around.”

“Jester, I love you, but that is fucking bullshit.”

“Well, you’re _myyyyy_ favorite person to be around.” And that was the absolute truth. Sure, Beau had certain qualities that made earning her trust and friendship a challenge for some. She could be combative and stubborn, and she had a tendency toward self-destruction that Jester tried her best to stamp out. Perhaps Jester shared those traits, though. After all, Jester had always come back to try to love Beau again, despite being rebuffed. Friendship was too trite to describe the bond they had developed through years of living together, through sharing space and secrets and hopes, dreams, and fears. And through incalculable loss. 

The memories, happy and sad and everything in between, bleeding around the corners of Jester’s mind were painful, but perhaps a reminder was what Beau needed to pull herself out of her funk. “And,” she continued, gently this time, “you were Molly’s favorite person to be around too.”

Beau’s eyes widened into discs, and she appeared momentarily stricken. Then she let out a barking laugh. “He couldn’t stand me half of the time, Jessie.”

“Only half of the time!” Jester smiled and placed a comforting hand over Beau’s, rubbing her thumb comfortingly across Beau’s dark skin. “He loved you soooo much.”

Beau took a deep, faltering breath. “I miss him.”

“Me too.”

Silence settled over them as they allowed themselves to remember and find solace in one another’s company, after which Jester brightened with a thought. “Do you still have his tarot cards?”

“Hell yeah,” Beau scoffed. “Like I’d give those up.”

“Weeeell, maybe you should see what they tell you about Yaaaashaaaa,” Jester sang, enjoying how Beau’s expression crumpled into an exaggerated scowl.

“You’re the worst.”

“Youuuu loooove meeeee!”

“How ‘bout you and Caleb then? You two were all over each other, like, the _whole_ day.”

“ _Teeeech-ni-ca-ly_ not the whoooole day,” Jester protested, her cheeks burning as Beau grinned victoriously.

“The. Whole. Day. Jess. You didn’t even come to the Victory Pit with us. AND you wore his weasel!”

Wearing his weasel sounded so filthy, Jester could not keep herself from laughing hysterically. Knowing her friend too well, Beau backtracked. “Fuck, I didn’t mean that to sound dirty. But seriously. You’re at the house all the time, and I know it’s not just to hang with me. You flirt like crazy with him. And his demon cat freakin’ loves you. What’s going on with you two?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I like him. A lot.” More than Jester had ever liked anyone before, but she wasn’t ready to share that realization with Beau quite yet. It surprised and scared Jester how much she felt for Caleb, and in so short a time. She knew she was prone to developing crushes, but this was something different, something bigger. She would lay awake at night, alone in her bed in her lonely apartment, contemplating the weightiness of her heart, afraid it would implode the more it expanded. But she recalled something her mother had told her when Jester, then only eight and halfway through a romance novel far too mature for her age, had asked why the heroes of the story, who clearly loved each other passionately, had not declared their feelings. 

“Love is a curious thing,” Marion had said, thoughtfully, brushing a dark curl of hair out of Jester’s face. “We want it, wish for it, dream about it for so long. But then when it arrives on our doorstep, we either don’t recognize it or it is so big that it frightens us.”

“Why would someone want something scary, mama?” Jester had wondered.

“Because, my little sapphire, to embrace the fear is to know its beauty. And once you know it, you’ll never want to give it up.”

Of course, Marion had also suggested Jester return to that particular book when she was a bit older. While her mother’s lesson had stuck with Jester as she crossed the threshold into early adulthood, she had not understood its virtue until she moved to Alfield and tumbled headfirst into something she couldn’t quite explain but wanted fiercely. 

There was the matter of reciprocity, though.

Jester’s shoulders slumped. “I just… I’m not sure he feels the same way.”

Beau snorted so hard some of her soft drink shot out from her nostrils. Jester rushed to pile napkins on Beau as she recovered. “Fuck, Jess,” she coughed. “You know that’s batshit crazy, right? He basically jumps out of his goddamn skin trying to make you happy. Dude follows you around like a puppy. He likes you. A metric fuck ton.”

Despite the flutter in her chest, Jester pressed on. “Sometimes I think he does, but then he backs off or gets suuuper quiet and thenit’slikeI’minvisibleandIfeellikeI’msayingallthewrongthingsandIjustreallywanttomakeoutwithhiscutefaceand-”

Beau waved her open hands to signal Jester to stop. “Whoa, girl. I got maybe half of that.”

Jester released an exasperated sigh. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know… when I’m around him, I feel like I’m floating. Or like I just ate a lot of candy. So happy and a little crazy, y’know?” As she spoke, she anxiously gripped a white paper napkin, balling it in her fist. “But, like… what if it’s just me? What if...” The next part was hard to say out loud, so hard that Jester had not even allowed herself to fully entertain the notion until just then. She took a short breath. “What if… he doesn’t want me.”

“Jester,” said Beau, her low voice becoming even more gravelly as she spoke evenly “There’s no way anyone who knows you could not want you.” 

There really was no hiding from Beau. She saw through Jester’s facade of smiles and rainbows and good nature. After all, it had been Beau who had found Jester sobbing into a tasselled bath mat desperately in need of washing the night she had tried alcohol their first year of college. It had been Beau who had rubbed Jester’s back as she had choked out the story of how she had never known her father. How he had left her mother, pregnant and alone, before Jester had even been born. How that dumb blonde bitch down the dormitory hall was so shitty for complaining about how overprotective her daddy was when Jester would probably never hear a word from her own. And it had been Beau who, despite Jester’s slurred claims that she was completely and toooo-tally fine, had held Jester’s hair back as she emptied the liquid contents of her stomach into the toilet, remaining with Jester until Molly had found them and helped Jester back to her bed. They had stayed with her all night, taking shifts to ensure Jester remained on her side and puked into the garbage can rather than on her purple unicorn bedspread.

In an effort to recover, Jester forced herself to chuckle. “I mean, I know I’m pre-tty awesome.” She was rewarded with a patented Beauregard Lionett eye-roll — drawn out and over the top, but lacking the typical “done with your shit” quality Beau afforded everyone else. Not Jester. Never Jester.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Jessie.”

“That I’m the best? Never!”

“You’re the worst.”

“And you loooooove meeee for it.”

“Unfortunately.” Beau expertly dodged the balled-up napkin Jester pelted at her head, grinning as Jester cackled and deli patrons at the table over stared daggers at them.

*****

“You feeling any better?”

Still wheezing, Caleb tried to shoot Beau a nasty look, though doing so was difficult in his current position, bent over at the waist and clasping his knees in agony.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to try running,” Beau argued, as if to absolve herself of any guilt for her foolish roommate’s current predicament. Not that Caleb believed she felt any. Fuck him, really, for attempting any sort of physical activity, much less trying to keep up with someone who chugged pre-workout shakes and could probably bench Fjord. 

Caleb could not remember the last time he had willingly done cardio. Dressed in the only acceptable running clothing he owned — ratty, pilled sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt the color of dingy dishwater — he was certain he looked nothing short of ridiculous, especially next to the flawless paragon of strength that was Beauregard Lionett. She had one of those fitness trackers that counted your steps and measured your heart rate. And real running shoes — the kind with superior arch support. Caleb had settled for the sneakers he wore when performing surgery. At least they were comfortable… or they were until his feet had rioted from the pain of oncoming blisters after they had run what felt like a marathon. Caleb knew it had only been thirteen minutes and twenty-one seconds.

“I would just like to say,” he growled, “fuck you very much.”

Beau scowled, leaning deeper into a hamstring stretch that Caleb believed would have torn his own muscles in half. “Yeah, yeah, fuck you, too. Ready for more?” To her credit, Beau snorted in laughter when Caleb flipped her the bird. “Ok. Not ready yet.” 

She lowered herself into a rock-solid plank and sank into a set of pushups. Caleb watched somewhat enviously as every muscle in Beau’s arms and shoulders flexed, moving like levers in a machine — which wasn’t a totally inaccurate metaphor for Beau. “You at least ready… to tell me… why you suddenly… want to get jacked?” she asked, words rhythmically punctuated by explosive breaths.

Caleb felt his eyes roll reflexively. _Sheisse_. So Beauregard was going to be nosey. So much for hoping this outing would be like most of their time spent together — mainly in companionable silence. There was a tacit understanding between the two roommates that privacy was valuable and smalltalk was to be avoided at all costs. That wasn’t to say Caleb and Beau never spoke. Rather, they chose their conversations sparingly, which was good for Caleb’s general anxiety and even better for Beau in light of how she tended to rub people the wrong way. Caleb liked that unspoken arrangement. But recently, Beau had started to draw Caleb into longer conversations outside of ticking off what groceries they were running low on, which Caleb would add to the list he kept mentally. Now Beau was needling Caleb about feelings and certain giggly art therapists.

“I do not think running makes one jacked.” 

“Fine,” Beau grunted, completing her pushups, flipping onto her back, and folding into crunches. “Couldn’t help _you_ get jacked anyway. But we’ve lived together for, what, almost a year now? And I’ve _never_ seen you break a sweat. Not once. But…” She trailed off to lean back on her elbows in brief repose. “But then my best friend rolls into town, and less than a month later she’s camped out in our living room with her sketchbook and paints and you’re finally starting to look after yourself.” Beau paused, apparently for effect, as she fixed him with a dangerously pointed look.

Despite having regained his breath, Caleb felt his composure slipping away. His face was so hot, he felt as if he were locked in a lit kiln. And the worst part was that he couldn’t deny what Beauregard was insinuating. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘looking after myself.’” 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but when we met at Pumat’s for the first time, I legit thought you were there to kill me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You looked like a hobo serial killer with your crazy beard and super intense, cult-leader eyes. Don’t get me wrong, super glad you didn’t.”

Caleb wasn’t sure whether he should thank Beau or try to tell her to get bent. In Beau’s defense, she did not know from where the odd man in the big, patchy brown coat had come. She did not know how the oversized sleeves of that coat had hidden puckered, discolored skin, permanently blistered from the lighter he carried in his worn-out pocket. She did not know the demons who visited him in the dead of night, robbing Caleb of precious sleep because he did not deserve such luxuries — not with the many sins tallied on his slate. She did not know how he checked to be certain the house doors were locked once, twice, three, four times every night when Caleb was certain Beau had gone to bed. Because monsters would always find a way inside. She did not know because Caleb had not told her, though she had seen the scars on his arms. It was his story — his _shame_ — to bear. Alone. 

Didn’t Beau have a right, though, to know the man with whom she lived? Should he not have allowed Beau the right to judge him for herself? In a year of living together, Beau and Caleb’s messy, strange relationship of convenience had become something resembling the faintest outline of friendship. That evolution was evident in how Beau sought Caleb out, dragging him into the light as if he was worth a damn. How she introduced him to her friends and ensconced him in her group of loved ones. How she might have flinched once at first seeing the marks on his forearms but had, thankfully, never spoken of them to him. How she kept a keen eye on his mental state, though she tried to hide her watchfulness. Theirs wasn’t the sort of friendship one saw in movies. It was still as messy and strange as before, but it had a quiet solidness that simultaneously disturbed and comforted Caleb. He could not understand why Beau kept him around. She should have known better. But Caleb was _grateful_ — though not in that exact moment.

“Look, dude, I get it.”

A derisive scoff punched through Caleb’s gritted teeth. Beau met Caleb with yet another snort. “Gods, you’re an asshole. You think I don’t understand?”

“You seem to be doing just fine for yourself, Beauregard,” Caleb retorted before he could think better of what he was saying. He had seen Beau and Yasha at the Summer’s Zenith Festival. He had watched from the corner of his eye as his roommate made clumsy, tipsy steps toward _something_ with the woman she had fixed her sight on. Good for Beau, really. But also fuck Beau.

It was Beau’s turn to flush as she got his meaning. “That’s not what I meant,” she insisted with a directness that told Caleb he was toeing the line. “I get it,” she continued firmly, her stormy expression brooking no insolence, “because I’ve been in the same fucking place as you with the same fucking feelings for the same fucking girl.”

Caleb reeled, thinking he had not heard right at first. “You mean-”

“That I liked Jester? Yeah. I did. I had a big ol’ fucking crush on her back when we were first roommates. Didn’t see it coming either. Hit me like a godsdamn truck.”

Caleb sank to the grass. Sharp, dehydrated blades tickled the exposed skin of his ankles. Thank the gods it was a cooler summer day than Alfield had seen recently, otherwise Caleb would have been roasting alive. “What did you do about it?”

“Got over it.”

“Oh.”

“No, dude,” she backtracked. “Not in a bad way. It’s just…” Beau rubbed at the back of her neck. “Having a crush on a friend is the shits. You act like even more of a dopey dumbass because you’re tiptoeing around them trying not to fuck up your friendship. And it’s even worse when they’re your roommate.”

Caleb wasn’t reassured. Instead, Beau was confirming some of Caleb’s worst fears — the ones concerning Jester at least. 

“Look,” Beau sighed, “I’m fucking this up.” That was an understatement. “Basically, I decided I wanted Jester’s friendship more than I wanted to make a move. I’m not saying it needs to be either/or. You can be friends with someone you date. Hell, you can hate someone you date if the sex is good enough. It’s more that you’ve got to shit or get off the pot. Make a decision. Or else you’ll lose your opportunity. And then you’ll regret it.”

“She deserves more.” _More than a broken man twelve years her senior who should be in prison for the shit he pulled and the lives he ruined._

“Jester deserves _everything_. But who’s going to give her that? Fucking no one. No one’s perfect. Everyone kinda sucks.”

“Fjord could.”

“Maybe, but she doesn’t go all starry-eyed looking at _Fjord_.”

 _And she looks that way at you?_ Desperate for something to do with his hands, Caleb grabbed a nearby rock and began drawing a circular pattern in the ground. He wished it would transform into a portal to ferry him away to a far-away land where tragic backstories were surmountable and complicated emotions meant that happiness was just a few narrative arcs away.

Beau refused to back down in the face of Caleb’s disbelief. “You, my friend, need to stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself.”

Caleb glared at Beau. “I wasn’t aware that was what I was doing.”

“Bull-fucking-shit. If you stopped self-flagellating long enough, you might realize that she likes being around you.”

“She is nice. I am sure she likes being around a lot of people.”

“That’s only partly true. But she wouldn’t spend so much time at our house if she didn’t want to spend time with _you_ , dumbass.”

“I’m…” Acrid bile fought its way up his throat as Caleb wrestled with himself. “I am not worth it.”

“Stop.” Caleb could infer from Beau’s tone that her frustration had reached a fever pitch, and when he looked up for confirmation, he nearly staggered under her aggressive stare. Caleb had often seen Beau in the heat of battle — verbal, though there had been one incident when Beau had shown her impressive right hook to a drunken idiot who had called her a cunt because she hadn’t been won over by his misogynistic ramblings and beer breath. One of the many things Caleb appreciated about Beau was how she faced even the most hopeless of situations like a prizefighter jumping with gusto into the ring. She became a category-five hurricane, laying waste to everything in her path, indiscriminate, reckless, and breathtaking. Now that heat was turned upon him.

“Stop thinking you’re not worth it,” she spat. “Not just for your sake. For the rest of us. Because we genuinely like being around you. Fuck, Caleb, you’re our friend. And if you think you’re nothing more than a piece of shit stuck to our shoes, then that’s a judgment on us too. And we don’t fucking deserve that. Not Veth, not Cad, not Fjord, not Yasha, not Jester.” _Not me_ , Caleb almost thought he heard Beau conclude. She didn’t, but he got the point.

There was nothing Caleb could say. His face burned, and his stomach turned sour with shame. Some part of him was compelled to stand up and storm off, wringing his hands and cursing as he went. Beau did not know the hell Caleb’s life had been for over a decade before he answered her “roommate wanted” ad, but she was right. She did not deserve to be sucked into the vortex of pity and hate and remorse Caleb felt toward himself. None of his friends did. They were good people. The best he could ever have hoped for, if he had dared to hope at all — which he hadn’t. He would never understand what they saw in him that they deemed worthy. Caleb was a smart man, but even some knowledge was beyond his grasp.

After a long while, during which Beau held Caleb in the tractor beam of her stare, he threw the rock in his hand aside. “You are terrible at pep talks.”

Beau’s nostrils flared before she let out a chuckle in spite of herself. In exchange, Caleb offered a tight smile through pursed lips. Not an apology. Barely a reaction. But something.

“Alright, now give me twenty pushups. Let’s see what you’re made of, Widogast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beau is the goddamn MVP of this chapter. Her advice may not always be the greatest... but she cares enough to try.


	7. Bourbon Keeps Me Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said this one would be happy and have a party? Um... it's been a rough week... so this happened instead... but next week is party time, promise!
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: discussion of alcoholism and mental illness** — please take care of yourselves!
> 
> Chapter title is from "Some Days" by Ira Wolf.

Caleb was still sore from his exercise — _torture_ — session with Beau when he parked his car along the curb outside of Veth’s house the next evening, exactly three minutes before he was due for dinner.

The Brenatto residence was a flat-roofed, two-level, brick box of a home that Veth and Yeza had secured as newlyweds at least a decade before Alfield underwent revitalization. Caleb knew Veth and Yeza originally hailed from rural Felderwin but had moved to be closer to the chemical lab where Yeza worked. The grueling hour-and-a-half (each way) commute had been taking a toll, and the couple had heard things about Alfield being an up-and-coming place to raise a family.

Caleb’s shockingly accurate internal clock told him he had forty-three seconds until seven, so he stood on the front porch, bottle of grocery store red wine in one hand and a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of purple and white asters in the other, and he counted down in his head. Exactly seven seconds in, Caleb was roused at the sound of the lock bolt sliding open and the doorknob turning. Veth stood in the doorframe, backlit by the soft, yellow light spilling out from the hallway. 

“I thought that was you, Caleb. Always early,” she greeted him brightly before turning her head and bellowing, “YEZA, CALEB’S HERE! Well, come in, come in!” The last part, Caleb assumed, was directed at him. He obeyed and untied his shoes while Veth set about opening and closing kitchen cabinets in search of a vase. “Those flowers are so lovely. You really shouldn’t have, Caleb.”

He shrugged. “It was no trouble. Besides, you are hosting. And cooking.” His mother, bless her, had impressed upon Caleb how it was rude to accept a dinner invitation and show up empty-handed. Whether true or not, he found that the simple act of repaying a kindness briefly breathed life back into her memory, temporarily dulling the constant ache of missing her. It had helped in the smallest of ways that the eye-catching purple blooms had reminded Caleb of the color of Jester’s eyes — and how he would not have minded drowning in them. Then Caleb had wanted to beat his head against a wall until the confusing mixture of elation, sadness, and frustration departed to find another sorry sap to torment.

“You are too good to me, and you know it.” Veth had raised herself up on her tiptoes to reach a square glass vase in the cabinet above the electric range, which also happened to be on, though Veth seemed unaware.

In an attempt to avoid a potential hospital visit while he was off-duty, Caleb crossed the room in several bounds and appeared over Veth. “Allow me.”

“See?” Veth poked him with an index finger to emphasize her point. “Too good. And too skinny. We need to put some meat on your bones. Right, honey?”

“Always best to agree with the wife, Caleb. Sorry,” said Yeza as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “That’s also why I’m the one cooking tonight,” he added upon reaching the kitchen, moving to stir whatever mouthwatering, tomato-based delicacy was simmering in the saucepan.

Veth sniffed. “Because I let you. But I’ll have you know that Caleb _loves_ my cooking.”

Caleb struggled to hide a grimace at Veth’s assertion. Bring a good cook was not among her many wonderful qualities. In fairness, Caleb, who practically lived off of hospital cafeteria meals, had no culinary skills either. The last time he had tried cooking a Zemnian stew, Beau had made gagging noises and insisted it looked like prison food.

Caleb helped Veth set the table while Yeza started a pot of pasta and answered Veth’s numerous doting questions about putting Luc down to sleep. According to Yeza, he had followed the bedtime routine set forth by his wife perfectly, even putting Luc in his favorite pajamas and acting out all the voices in _Good Night Moons_. Caleb loved playing with Luc, but it also was nice to have time with Veth, especially since Caleb was always second-guessing himself when it came to children. What if they didn’t like him? What if they thought he was too quiet or too old or too weird? Plus, kids loved coloring, and Caleb didn’t have an artistic bone in his body — as a surgeon, he would know. And just then, he thought of Jester standing at a canvas colored in oil paints in his sunroom, tongue poking out of her mouth and brow knitted in concentration. _Pathetic._

Twenty minutes later, they sat down to bowls filled with heaps of _al dente_ pasta topped by a savory ragout bursting with tender cubes of beef and stewed root vegetables. On the side, crusty, toasted bread. Yeza jumped up just as they were digging in to grab the finishing touch: a sprinkle of a coarsely chopped green herb — parsley perhaps? Parsley or not, Caleb had to hand it to Yeza. The food was incredible. Certainly the best meal Caleb had eaten in ages. Yeza turned red with humble pleasure as Caleb told him so.

Caleb let Veth and Yeza — though mainly Veth — do most of the talking as they ate. They caught Caleb up on Luc’s progress in the pre-Kindergarten daycare his parents had enrolled him in for the summer — “he’s already reading short words,” exclaimed Veth proudly, “he’s so far ahead of the other kids!” — and touched on Yeza’s work at the lab — “same old, same old, but surprises aren’t exactly a good thing in a lab,” Yeza admitted. As a surgeon, Caleb could wholeheartedly agree.

Luc was courteous enough to at least wait until the adults were finishing their meals to pad down the stairs, rubbing his eyes, and ask for a glass of water and for mommy to come upstairs to chase the monsters away. Caleb gave Luc a little wave as Veth swept him back upstairs. “Goodnight, _schatz_.” 

“Goodnight, Uncle Cay-leb,” Luc answered drowsily. Caleb blinked. Luc said Caleb’s name so similarly to Jester. It was a silly thing to harp on, he knew, but it felt significant, as if they were unknowingly affirming both the sad man and the name he had chosen while trying to pull himself out of the gutter of his past life.

“Thirsty?” Yeza asked. Caleb wasn’t, but he watched as Yeza refilled their water glasses. Clearly he was looking for something to do in his wife’s absence. As someone with his own host of nervous tics, Caleb could commiserate. Even in that moment, he was seriously considering sitting on his hands to keep from itching his forearms or looking for the pockets of his absent white coat. 

“Can I-”

“Luc is-”

The two men stared at each other before each cracking an embarrassed smile.

“You first,” Yeza insisted.

“I was going to say... Luc is growing up so fast.”

“Can say that again. You’ve only known him, what, a year? And he’s almost doubled in size.”

“It’s nice to see,” said Caleb quietly. There was so much he missed about his own childhood. How happy he had been. How much his parents had loved him. How they had wanted him to succeed. How Caleb had been blissfully unaware of the impossible choices adults had to make. How unknown and far off the future had seemed.

“Can I ask you something, Caleb?”

Caleb nodded. Yeza breathed as if he were preparing to plunge into icy water. “Have you…” He cast a nervous, wincing glance at the stairs up which Veth and Luc had disappeared. “Have you noticed anything… off... about Veth?”

Caleb’s brow furrowed in confusion. “ _Nein_. Not to my knowledge,” he answered, matching Yeza’s soft tone. Somehow Caleb knew that if Veth overheard their discussion, she would not have been pleased, and he immediately felt wretchedly guilty for his part in it.

“Oh. Ok. It’s just… well… you’re both so close. She thinks the world of you. Talks about you all the time. If I didn’t know better, I’d be kind of jealous. See… that’s why I thought maybe you’d know.”

“Know what?” Caleb asked, hyperaware of the escalating pounding in his chest. Something was wrong.

“Caleb, she’s drinking.”

“Like before?” Before meaning warm bourbon from the bottle at four in the afternoon, and then when four became too late, three. Nips here and there from the doll-sized bottles Veth had admitted to keeping in her purse and car glove compartment. After she and Caleb had known each other for some time, Veth had confessed to being on the other side of tipsy when she had brought Luc to the hospital. She knew she shouldn’t have been driving. But the adrenaline had kicked in, and somehow they had made it. _Never again,_ she had sworn. 

She still drank, but less frequently and with deliberate moderation. 

Caleb had never judged Veth. He was in no such position to lecture her on right and wrong. Besides, any outside reproach would have paled in comparison to the self-bludgeoning Veth endured. She blamed herself for anything. Called herself names. Told herself she was not smart, not pretty, not brave. The remnants of a miserable childhood, or so Caleb had been able to piece together. Bullied and abused by her peers. Ignored and neglected by a mother who resented her daughter for being a living reminder of the husband who had walked out on them and never returned. At least there had been Yeza. He had been kind to Veth, providing her safe haven from the nightmare of her reality. He had loved her when no one else had shown her a scrap of mercy.

“Yeah,” exhaled Yeza, “and there’s more. I found some things…”

“Things?”

“Odds and ends. Little things, really. Candy. Car air fresheners. Cheap jewelry. Coffee stirrers. Little plastic figures. I found them. In a shoebox in the closet.”

Caleb understood what Yeza was implying. _Veth_. “You think they are stolen?”

Yeza nodded, eyes downturned.

“I brought wine.” The only stupid thing Caleb could manage to say because he was a stupid, stupid man.

“Please don’t feel bad about that,” Yeza tried to reassure him, though Caleb continued to silently berate himself for being a rotten friend. For not seeing Veth’s pain and anguish. For missing her relapse because Caleb was stuck in his own world. _Perhaps if you spent less time worrying about Jester-_

_Don’t bring her into this._

“I just… I… I need help… and I didn’t know who else to…” 

The creak of a bedroom door upstairs and a muffled “goodnight, sweetie” nearly sent Caleb and Yeza flying out of their seats. Each looked wildly about as the shame of secrecy gripped them and the unsaid end of their conversation hung in the air. Only mere seconds until they would assume their original roles: the dutiful, doting husband and the troubled best friend. This time, however, Caleb would be acting as if he were unaware of the troubles Yeza had shared. This time, Caleb would be lying to Veth. A sin of omission. The thought turned the ragout digesting in his stomach sour.

Yet it had been no easy thing for Yeza to confide in Caleb. Glancing at Veth’s husband, Caleb saw fear and self-loathing written plainly on Yeza’s face. But there was also something else there — a selfless courage Caleb had never had the strength to demonstrate. This was a man acting out of adoration and concern for his wife, which was why Yeza had done the bravest thing he could do. Ask for help. 

“I will look after her,” Caleb whispered, so softly he thought Yeza had not heard him. 

“Thank you,” Yeza mouthed just before Veth’s feet hit the hardwood of the living room floor. She apologized for taking so long and asking winkingly what Caleb and Yeza had talked about in her absence. Sports, Yeza joked, and they had all shared a laugh. 

Twenty-six minutes of pretending later, Caleb and Veth said goodnight on the front porch, leaving Yeza to the dishes. They all had an early morning — Caleb had to be up at 4:30, Veth reminded him, reaching up to straighten the collar on his button-up shirt, her fingers barely making the distance, even standing on her toes. He had leaned down then to gather Veth into an uncharacteristically tight hug that seemed to go on forever. 

“I love you, Veth _._ ” 

“I love you, too, Caleb. Now get some sleep!”

He went home, shutting off the ignition of his car on the curb. Instead of going inside, however, Caleb brought his forehead down to where his hands rested at the top of the steering wheel, remaining there until the lights switched off by themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% pleased with how this chapter turned out, but, as I said... it's been a week. I apologize if this is triggering for anyone. As someone who lives with mental illness and as someone who has loved ones who also live with mental illness and addiction, these issues are chronic and so, so devastating. 
> 
> Please take care of yourselves and don't forget to love each other. See you next week for a much happier chapter! xoxo


	8. The Stars Stole the Night Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with that Grade-A **angst**. 
> 
> Chapter title is from "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire... but I'm unashamed to admit I had the lovely Taylor Swift cover playing on repeat. You get me, Taylor.

On Jester’s twenty-fourth birthday, her friends surprised her with two of her favorite things: karaoke and dancing. 

Jester had received a cryptic message from Beau the previous evening telling Jester to clear her schedule and be ready to leave from the hospital at six. After wrapping up her last group therapy session — an eclectic and lovable bunch of seniors who were showing progress in cognitive and motor skills development — Jester cleaned up her work area and gathered her purse and jean jacket before heading to the curb outside. 

Her friends were already waiting for her — even Yasha. They showered Jester with a chorus of “happy birthdays” and ushered her into Caduceus’ gigantic van, which looked like a relic from decades back, complete with an earthy two-tone paint job and wood side paneling. Then they were on their way, cracking jokes and warming up their pipes by singing along to the psychedelic tunes playing on the local classics radio station. 

The closest karaoke bar was on the edge of Alfield, nearly forty minutes away. The drive went by in a flash, though. Soon they were inside the Blitzed Bard, a poorly-lit hole in the wall that smelled of hops far past their prime. A true dive bar, especially in light of how they had become spoiled by their time at the Invulnerable Vagrant. Jester loved it. 

They had arrived just in time for power hour, whatever that was. “Cheap shots,” Beau explained excitedly, shooting over to the bar to place an order. The others staked a claim on a table with full view of the stage, if the slightly-raised platform with a single standing microphone that they would come to find permanently reeked of cheap beer — though what didn’t in this place — counted as a stage. 

Jester did not miss how Yasha followed Beau to the bar and bit back a squeal when Yasha’s hand found the bare skin of Beau’s back between her crop top and ripped jeans. The only person who seemed to notice Jester’s reaction was Caleb, who gave her a curious glance from across the table (or tables — they had pushed several together, surely to the annoyance of the staff). Jester inclined her head toward Beau and Yasha and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. He responded with a small smirk and shrugged with an air of nonchalance — feigned, of course. Jester knew Caleb well enough by now to observe when his interest had been piqued.

Veth was first up to sing, but only after she threw back a shot and made a face like she had ingested poison. Strangely, Caleb reacted similarly, though he wasn’t tossing back liquor. Odd. Jester cheered wildly as their smallest friend took the stage, struggling to adjust the microphone to her height before launching into a pop-rock song Jester couldn’t recall ever hearing. “That was mine and Yeza’s wedding song,” said Veth upon returning, flushed with adrenaline, to the table.

Next up was Beau. As the bars leading into Beau’s choice of song counted down on the lyric screen, Beau pointed at Jester and shouted into the mic. “Hey, it’s my best friend’s birthday!” The audience applauded and hooted tipsily. Someone screamed at Beau to show her tits, earning that person two stick-straight middle fingers and a “fuck you, dumbshit” as Beau jumped into a amped-up rock song, albeit a tad off-key. 

Caduceus wowed the crowd with a rich baritone that was so unexpectedly stunning, his bluesy ballad was a hard act to follow. To his credit, Fjord nervously made it through a country-pop crossover hit from a few years back with only one minor stumble. “Fjord, you’ve been holding out on us,” Jester rang out when he sat back down at the table. “You have suuuuch a good voice!” It wasn’t a lie — Fjord did have a good voice — but Jester was also trying her best to calm his post-performance nerves, which were evident in how his hand shook long after he had stopped singing.

Fjord grimaced, but Jester thought she could see the beginnings of a self-conscious smile. “Thanks, Jess.”

While Yasha took her turn finagling with the microphone — “it’s tricky… and kind of sticky,” admitted Veth — Jester tapped Caleb’s foot with the toe of her ankle boot under the table. “Cayleb, are you going to siiiing something?” she asked hopefully. 

“I… well,” he began timidly, and Jester noticed his fingers move to his forearms in the way they did when anxiety crept up on him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said quickly, sensing his apprehension. For good measure, she threw in a reassuring grin.

Caleb’s features relaxed. “ _Danke_.”

Jester’s heart swelled. She summoned what little Zemnian she had absorbed from listening to Caleb speak in his native tongue — though listening did not accurately describe how Jester tuned out every other voice or sound when Caleb slipped, usually unconsciously, into a language that sounded both harsh and disarming. When it happened, Jester felt her breath hitch, and a desperate longing came over her for hands to roam her body as a ragged voice whispered foreign words of worship in her ear. “ _Bitte_.”

Strange how a little word could change everything.

In an unguarded moment, Caleb’s shyness was replaced by something else entirely. At first, Jester wondered if he had not heard her, what with how he stared at her with unfettered surprise. No, more than surprise. His blue eyes bored into her, searchingly, and she felt vulnerable yet alive as she realized she could name the look with which he had transfixed her. An expression with enough raw power to pin her back against a wall, draw close, and bite her lip between its teeth until it drew blood. Despite being relatively inexperienced in love, Jester had kissed enough people in high school and college to be well acquainted with that look. It was hunger. Unmistakable. For her. Jester’s vision blurred, and she felt slightly faint as a roaring in her ears drowned everything else, even Yasha’s voice, lovely and unsure.

And just like that, the look disappeared. No, come back. _Please come back_ , she thought like a needy child. Instead, Caleb adopted a neutral air, nodding his approval to Yasha as she reappeared at the table. That was when Jester decided there was no way she was going to let him get away with that. Not after what she had seen. After lunch with Beau, Jester wondered if she had misread the signs or misunderstood Caleb’s intentions. Never had being wrong felt so thrilling.

“Your turn, Jess!” called out Fjord. Her friends clapped and hollered. Beau, two sheets to the wind, jumped up to stomp her feet with reckless abandon. Gods, Jester felt good. Invincible. Desirable. Irresistible. She’d take the lead if that was what it took. Tonight was going to be her night. It was her _fucking birthday_.

Jester took the stage and grabbed the mic. 

Game on, Widogast.

*****

Good gods, what had Caleb gotten himself into? 

As if his mouth couldn’t have gone any dryer when Jester had said one little word in Zemnian, he felt like a man wandering in the desert as he watched her belt out a power ballad with the brazen confidence of a popstar. And not for the first time, Caleb couldn’t stop thinking about how incredibly sexy she was. Especially now — in a dress with a neckline that flaunted her cleavage, a skirt that flared out over her full hips, and a hemline that stopped more than a few inches above her knees. 

He was parched. Caleb grabbed his glass of beer, which nearly slipped out of his fumbling grasp from the condensation. Was it suddenly unbearably hot in this damn bar? He couldn’t have missed the knowing, pointed stare Beau pinned him with from next to Yasha and Fjord, as if Beau were calling Caleb out for being a horny motherfucker out loud. _Fick dich, Beauregard_.

But she wasn’t wrong.

After Jester finished her song, Caleb managed to force himself to clap. Not because she hadn’t been good. No, she had been so good, in fact, that he was scrambling to pull himself together. Scrambling and failing miserably. He didn’t feel miserable, though — not when he registered the exuberant grin on Jester’s lovely face. She was riding the high of her performance, drinking in the shouts from the crowd. Jester took a deep bow and flounced off the stage, nearly tipping over the microphone in her excitement. 

All together again, the group cheersed with another round of drinks in honor of Jester and a night of mostly tipsy performances now behind them. Caleb realized he was growing drunk, but he certainly wasn’t alone in that regard. He mentally kicked himself as he watched Veth down another shot with Beau and Fjord. _Some friend you are. You’re supposed to be looking out for her._ Caleb couldn’t police Veth, he knew that much, and saying something to Veth at the table would undoubtedly backfire. Tomorrow. He would be a better friend tomorrow. And he would see Veth home safely that night. Hopefully with no additional liquor in her system.

Jester chose then to sit dangerously close to Caleb. Close enough to release a heady rush of dopamine that flooded his senses and clouded his better judgment, which was already on vacation. He relaxed into Jester’s warmth. Wait, no, that wasn’t relaxing— that was _leaning_. Just as Caleb was hoping Jester wouldn’t notice, he felt pressure against his side. It took a moment for his overwhelmed brain to process that she was _returning_ his lean. When Caleb dumbly glanced down at Jester, there were her eyes, dark and focused, already staring up at him. Her full lips curled into a devious smile, and she propped her chin up with a free hand, metal bangles on her wrist clanging together like little bells. “Are you going to ask me to dance, Cayleb?”

“What?”

“Weeeell… I think it’s only fair…”

“Fair?”

"Since you didn’t sing.”

He wanted to be the sort of man for whom the question “want to dance?” tripped off the tongue. But Caleb was stuck with what he had. Instead, he asked the only question that really mattered. “Would that make you happy?” Jester answered by grabbing Caleb’s hand and leading him away from the table and their friends.

Following Jester felt right. Despite how he was floundering on the inside and sweating on the outside, Caleb felt oddly secure with his hand caught in hers. When was the last time that had happened? Certainly not with Astrid. Not with anyone, at least not this way. Caleb was learning firsthand how easy it was not only to fall in love with Jester Lavorre, but to tumble even deeper into her, so deep that you were sucked into her orbit and became addicted to the smell of her perfume and the lilting of her voice and the sound of her laugh and the freckles on her nose and shoulders.

They were surrounded by a sea of swaying bodies moving in drunken syncopation with the slow beat of the music. Jester spun around gracefully and closed the distance between them. Caleb could have groaned at the weight of her touch as she wound her arms around his neck. By some miracle, he didn’t. Only problem was that he wasn’t sure where the hell to put his hands. Surely not _on_ her...

“Cayleb, you can put your hands on me.”

 _Don’t gape, you fool._ “Uh… _ja_ , ok. You’re sure?” He barely got the last part out. His mind was too preoccupied on how Jester’s eyes shimmered, as if they dared Caleb to follow through. Perhaps she even hoped he would. It reminded him of the first night he drove her home, with Veth and Beau falling asleep on each other in the backseat like they were Caleb and Jester’s tuckered-out adult children. Back when he had possessed the courage to walk her, a complete stranger, to her door, unaware of what she would come to mean to him in mere months. Like in the stories Caleb’s mother had told him from the foot of his bed as he nodded off to sleep, love had crept up and sprung upon him only to hold him relentlessly in its grasp. Caleb was a prisoner of a war he didn’t intend to wage, but he would gladly call himself the loser if losing meant winning.

He pressed his palms, tentatively at first, against the swell of her hips. Eventually their feet found the rhythm. Jester exhaled against him, the rise and fall of her chest quickening his already feverish blood and spurring him, as if Caleb were the younger man he had once been, to slide his hands over the silky material of her dress and press inquiringly against the small of her back. “Is that ok?” 

There was no mistaking it — Jester positively shuddered beneath his touch, her eyes widening for only a second before her body melted against his with a purr of affirmation. The chain reaction Caleb had ignited sent a shiver of pride down his spine, though why this talented, brilliant, beautiful woman was bothering with him in the first place was simply beyond him. Hours ago, he would have scoffed at the idea. The voice in his head would never have let him believe a moment like this to be possible in anything other than dreams. Yet in the short time he had known Jester, Caleb had learned the voice was quieter when she was near. Not muted, but muffled. That was enough. It also helped to have liquid courage flowing through his veins to take the edge off of crippling inhibitions.

“Cayleb?”

“ _Ja_ , _Liebling_?” He shouldn’t have called her that, but he was almost certain she didn’t know what it meant anyway, though she apparently was learning his language surreptitiously.

“I want to ask you something.” 

He tucked away for later the image of dark lashes fluttering over lilac eyes and how her grip tightened around his neck. “Anything.”

“Buuut I’m sort of afraid.”

“Afraid… of me?”

Jester giggled and shook her head before Caleb could be crestfallen that she would ever be afraid of him. “No, silly. Of what might happen.”

Caleb still didn’t understand. “I’m sure nothing bad,” he said somewhat stupidly.

“Weeell,” she chirped in that endearing way of hers, “it could because you might not like what I say or feel pressured andthenIwouldfeelawfulbecauseIreallywanttoaskbutIdon’twanttoruinourfriendshipbutIalsowanttoknowifyou’dwanttohangoutsometimejustusbutyoucantoootallysaynoit’ssuuuperok.”

“Jester?”

“Yes, Cayleb?”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t quite get that.”

“Oh, sorry, I was talking too fast, wasn’t I? I do that when I’m nervous.”

Caleb blinked, taken aback that the brave young woman who had moved across the continent to chase her dream and made sex jokes in normal conversation could be nervous about anything. “Nervous about what?”

“About you.”

“I… I make _you_ nervous?” he asked incredulously. 

Jester’s cheeks flared red. “Um… yeah. But, like, in a good way.”

Caleb stopped swaying, halting Jester along with him, and stared at her dumbfoundedly. “Oh,” he breathed like the marvelously idiotic man he was. 

“Oh?” Was that a tremor Caleb heard in her voice? He registered how she scrutinized him, violet eyes flashing brilliantly in the dim and intermittent lighting, but he was too busy recovering from what he had just heard come from Jester’s mouth to feel embarrassed by her probing. In all of his time loving her, Caleb had not considered how terrifying it would have been to find she returned his feelings. His logical mind could never have entertained the notion that she might even be interested. 

_Move. Flee._ Caleb felt as if his feet had been glued to the floor, though it was more likely he was standing on something sticky that had not been cleaned up properly. Regardless, running was out of the question. As unsettling as the fluttering sensation in Caleb’s stomach was, Jester deserved better than a man who would cut out at the first opportunity. Jester deserved better, period. 

“Cayleb… could you say something?”

“ _Sheisse…_ I mean…” Caleb floundered as Jester winced and glanced down. It was possible she thought she was being rejected, which only increased Caleb’s anxiety. “ _Nein_ , Jester, I just need… to understand first.” When Jester didn’t respond, Caleb took a deep breath and forged ahead. No running. “You said I make you nervous. But in a good way. And…” He swallowed and made a choice to lean into the raw uselessness burning him up from the inside. “That’s a good thing?”

Gods love her — Jester smiled. It was small and nervous, but it was there. “Yeah. It’s a good thing, Cayleb.”

He couldn’t stop from grinning, wide and silly and helpless. “Oh, well… that’s… good,” he sputtered.

“Yeah?”

“ _Ja_. Very.”

That answer seemed to please Jester, which only furthered Caleb’s confoundment. “Sooo,” Jester crooned, tilting her chin up with the self-awareness of a woman who understood her own power. “What are you doing on Saturday?” 

“Saturday?”

“Mmhmm. It’s part of the weekend.”

“I know that.”

“Weeeell, I thought we could, y’know, hang out.”

“We do every Saturday. If I’m not working.”

“I meeeaaan… just us.”

This woman was going to be his official cause of death. Not only did Caleb make her nervous in a good way, but she also wanted to “hang out.” Just the two of them. That part was important because it was the difference between friendship and… something else. What that else was, he hadn’t a clue. But he was desperate to find out. “I’d like that.”

“Good. I would too.” 

Either Caleb's vision was faulty or Jester was inching her way even closer. The latter, judging by the light pressure on his neck around which Jester’s arms were still wound. Add to that how she gazed up at him just as she had when he had walked her to her door the night they met — so full of expectation. He had walked away that night. Long ago in his former life, Caleb would have responded swiftly by locking lips and parting them with his tongue. That was then, and as much as those women had appealed to the feral instincts of a young man long dead, they were not Jester. They could never be Jester.

He brushed her warm, flushed cheek with his open hand, fingers threading through soft locks of blue-streaked hair and eyes trailing down to her full lips, slightly parted and waiting. It wouldn’t be the perfect first kiss — not with the newly-started, bass-heavy dance music playing in the background and the intoxicated strangers who reeked of sweat and booze and bad decisions — but it would be theirs.

“Jester,” he breathed. “I-”

They were interrupted by the rude whine of feedback from the karaoke microphone. Caleb and Jester both winced at the sound. “HELLOOOOO, ALFIELD,” a voice slurred over the noise and crowd. “Are youuu ready for soooome KARAOKE?”

Unfortunately, Caleb knew that voice. So did anyone who spent time at Alfield General Hospital, as that voice could often be heard crackling over the PA system. 

Across the room, Veth had clamored her way onto the elevated platform that served as a stage and had begun to scream-sing the chorus of a song Caleb remembered playing relentlessly on the radio during his undergraduate years. Already, Beau and Yasha were attempting to drag Veth off the stage. The smaller woman, however, had the wherewithal to detach the portable part of the microphone from the stand and canniness to slip through Yasha’s outstretched arms.

Caleb cursed as he broke away from Jester and pushed through the mass of people, all of whom were all far too amused by the little drunk lady putting on a show to do anything to help. Selfish. Though if Veth were not his friend, Caleb knew he likely would have done the same thing. But she was his friend. His best friend. And Yeza was going to kill him. _“I’ll take care of her,” your ass, Widogast._

It took some coaxing to get Veth off the stage, out of the bar, and into Caduceus’ van. Eventually she passed out, lulled to sleep by the feeling of the road beneath the tires and the white noise of wind blowing past the slightly ajar window she leaned against. Caleb had folded himself up into the middle seat at her side in case she needed to vomit. Thankfully, Caduceus was a good driver who obeyed all road signs, traffic lights, and speed limits. They’d be able to stop quickly if Veth got sick.

Poor Jester. Not the best way to end a night out, especially a birthday night out. Caleb felt horrible for leaving her so abruptly. To her credit, Jester hadn’t just stood on the dance floor. She had followed, asking what she could do to help before running off to find Caduceus so he could bring the car around for an easy getaway. For that, Caleb was immensely grateful.

He was also grateful for the soft nudge she gave his leg with her knee from the seat to his left. Caleb turned his head to meet Jester’s tired, contented smile, offering a weak upturn of his lips in return. Jester’s hand found his own in the dark space between their seats, applying enough pressure to ask an unsaid question. Caleb answered by slowly lacing his fingers between hers. The gesture felt more intimate than anything they had shared that night. Strikingly, Caleb experienced no embarrassment, no fear, no nervousness. Nothing but the feeling of solid ground.

*****

_(12:41) Message from Caleb Widogast: I’m sorry we were cut off. I enjoyed dancing with you._

_(12:43) Message from Jester Lavorre: you are a good friend!! that’s one of the things i really like about you_

_(12:43) Message from Jester Lavorre: that and you are a good dancer ;)_

_(12:44) Message from Caleb Widogast: I’m not sure I would call that real dancing. Perhaps we will have to go some night._

_(12:45) Message from Jester Lavorre: i’d love that!!!_

_(12:45) Message from Caleb Widogast: Noted. See you Saturday… if you still want to?_

_(12:46) Message from Jester Lavorre: um YES!!! now sleep!! you’re going to be so tired tomorrow_

_(12:47) Message from Caleb Widogast: It will be worth it. (Also I have a late shift.)_

_(12:49) Message from Jester Lavorre: that was almost reeeeaaally cute :) good night!!! xxx_

_(12:51) Message from Caleb Widogast: Good night, Jester. Happy birthday._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter threw me through a loop, y'all. The struggle was real. Mainly because it's a MONSTER. Apologies, but the only logical break was so early on that it wouldn't have made sense to split into two chapters... but hope you enjoyed the angst! 
> 
> Next chapter may be up a little later than usual. I've got some things going on in the ol' life and need to make sure everyone is taken care of. Also, gotta get that buffer chapter back.
> 
> Take care and don't forget to love each other. xoxo


	9. Angel of the First Degree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The timestamps on this chapter were the idea of a woman who thought she was hanging on to that one last thread of sanity. Spoiler alert: she let go of that a couple of weeks ago.
> 
> Another note: I still don't know how how hospitals work.
> 
> Also: These idiots text way too much at work. Caleb... you're a doctor. 
> 
> Chapter title is from "Tupelo Honey" by Van Morrison.

Wednesday 

_(13:09) Message from Jester Lavorre: omg you’re just getting to work?!?!?!? what?!?!?_

_(13:18) Message from Caleb Widogast: Hello to you too. Late shift today._

_(13:29) Message from Jester Lavorre: hahaha i remember. i just like teasing you_

_(13:35) Message from Caleb Widogast: It’s probably for the best since someone kept me up quite late last night._

_(13:51) Message from Jester Lavorre: mwuhahaha my plan worked!!!_

_(14:12) Message from Caleb Widogast: That it did. How are you today?_

_(14:38) Message from Jester Lavorre: gooooood :) especially compared to others…_

_(14:56) Message from Caleb Widogast: Fjord is looking rather green around the gills, ja?_

_(15:23) Message from Jester Lavorre: hahaha he’s definitely looked better_

_(15:24) Message from Jester Lavorre: how’s Veth?_

_(16:02) Message from Caleb Widogast: She is recovering from home. Called in sick._

_(16:15) Message from Jester Lavorre: oh no… i hope she is ok…_

_(16:15) Message from Jester Lavorre: what about Beau?_

_(16:27) Message from Caleb Widogast: I knocked on her door around 8:30 this morning to make sure she was alive._

_(16:49) Message from Jester Lavorre: did she tell you to go fuck yourself?_

_(16:52) Message from Caleb Widogast: Spot on._

_(16:58) Message from Jester Lavorre: Beau’s hangovers are legendary_

_(16:59) Message from Jester Lavorre: but I learned if you make her eat a slice of suuuuuper greasy pizza an hour before she passes out they’re not as bad_

_(17:08) Message from Caleb Widogast: It is regrettable then that we did not get pizza last night._

_(17:21) Message from Jester Lavorre: she’ll recover!!_

_(17:22) Message from Jester Lavorre: and maybe this will make her remember that shots are evillll_

_(17:27) Message from Caleb Widogast: A hard lesson to learn, but necessary._

_(17:34) Message from Jester Lavorre: did you have to learn that lesson?_

_(17:37) Message from Caleb Widogast: Ja, though a long time ago._

_(17:41) Message from Jester Lavorre: liiiiiike… how long ago?_

_(17:46) Message from Caleb Widogast: Are you asking me how old I am?_

_(17:50) Message from Jester Lavorre: maaaaaaybeeeee ;)_

_(17:50) Message from Jester Lavorre: it’s only fair because you know how old i am!!_

_(18:14) Message from Caleb Widogast: Ah, then we must even the scale. Let’s say that I am old enough to know the words to the song Caduceus sang last night._

_(18:22) Message from Jester Lavorre: he was soooooo good wasn’t he???_

_(18:26) Message from Caleb Widogast: Sehr gut, ja. You were not so bad yourself, Frau Lavorre._

_(18:29) Message from Jester Lavorre: awwww you’re sweet :) it was fun but i’m nowhere as near as good as my mama_

_(18:33) Message from Caleb Widogast: Your mother sings?_

_(18:38) Message from Jester Lavorre: omg stop_

_(18:38) Message from Jester Lavorre: whaaaaaattt_

_(18:41) Message from Caleb Widogast: I’m… sorry?_

_(18:43) Message from Jester Lavorre: you’ve never heard of the Ruby of the Sea?_

_(18:48) Message from Caleb Widogast: I believe she is an opera singer, ja?_

_(18:51) Message from Jester Lavorre: the BEST singer in the WHOOOOOLE WIIIIDE WOOOORLD_

_(18:52) Message from Jester Lavorre: and she’s also my mama!!_

_(18:56) Message from Caleb Widogast: So that is where your artistic talents come from._

_(18:59) Message from Jester Lavorre: :) :) :)_

_(19:00) Message from Jester Lavorre: she has the most BEAAAUUUTIFUL voice_

_(19:03) Message from Caleb Widogast: Indeed she does. You must be very proud of her._

_(19:04) Message from Jester Lavorre: the proudest :)_

_(19:12) Message from Caleb Widogast: Does your mother still perform?_

_(19:15) Message from Jester Lavorre: not publicly_

_(19:15) Message from Jester Lavorre: but she teaches voice lessons online_

_(19:16) Message from Jester Lavorre: but she’s suuuuuper expensive and there’s a reaaaaally long waiting list so if you want lessons you might have to wait_

_(19:21) Message from Caleb Widogast: I think I am alright for now. I am not much of a singer._

_(19:23) Message from Jester Lavorre: and don’t think i didn’t notice you changed the subject_

_(19:31) Message from Caleb Widogast: You’ve caught me._

_(19:34) Message from Caleb Widogast: But I am about to go into surgery. Shall I text you later?_

_(19:36) Message from Jester Lavorre: oooo cliffhanger…_

_(19:36) Message from Jester Lavorre: you shall!! ;)_

*****

Wednesday (later...)

_(23:12) Message from Caleb Widogast: I am 36._

_(23:14) Message from Caleb Widogast: Since you asked…_

_(23:18) Message from Jester Lavorre: really??_

_(23:21) Message from Caleb Widogast: I’m quite old, I know._

_(23:23) Message from Jester Lavorre: Caaaaaleb, 36 is NOT old_

_(23:26) Message from Caleb Widogast: It feels ancient._

_(23:29) Message from Jester Lavorre: weeeeeell sometimes older things are better..._

_(23:31) Message from Caleb Widogast: Such as?_

_(23:35) Message from Jester Lavorre: wine!!!_

_(23:38) Message from Caleb Widogast: I thought you don’t drink?_

_(23:42) Message from Jester Lavorre: but that’s what everyone says right??_

_(23:44) Message from Jester Lavorre: and whiskey too according to Beau_

_(23:45) Message from Jester Lavorre: and cheese which is better when it’s older and stinkier and moldier_

_(23:57) Message from Caleb Widogast: You are not making a very compelling case._

_(24:00) Message from Jester Lavorre: i’m not done!!!_

_(0:06) Message from Jester Lavorre: and jeans!!_

_(0:15) Message from Caleb Widogast: Jeans?_

_(0:22) Message from Jester Lavorre: you know like jeans that you wear? like on your buuuuutttt??_

_(0:34) Message from Jester Lavorre: my favorite pair is the ones that i’ve had for ages because they fit me perfectly and they’re faded and have rips in the knees and i love them_

_(0:37) Message from Caleb Widogast: So fermented grapes, spirits, moldy cheese, and destroyed denim. You make old age sound so appealing._

_(0:41) Message from Jester Lavorre: people pay loooots of money to buy jeans with holes in them already_

_(0:46) Message from Jester Lavorre: oh and art when it’s by someone reeeeaaaally famous!!_

_(0:48) Message from Jester Lavorre: like all those incredibly beautiful paintings in the art gallery in Zadash_

_(0:50) Message from Caleb Widogast: There’s that at least._

_(0:53) Message from Jester Lavorre: you know you’re not old… right??_

_(0:55) Message from Caleb Widogast: I am older than you._

_(0:56) Message from Jester Lavorre: so??_

_(0:59) Message from Caleb Widogast: By a lot._

_(1:00) Message from Jester Lavorre: soooooo?????_

_(1:03) Message from Caleb Widogast: You don’t mind?_

_(1:06) Message from Jester Lavorre: i spent like foreeeeever thinking of things that get better the older they are so you’d know it soooo doesn’t matter_

_(1:08) Message from Jester Lavorre: well teeeechnicaaaallyyy i searched online for things that get better with age_

_(1:09) Message from Jester Lavorre: but that doesn’t change anything!!!_

_(1:22) Message from Caleb Widogast: You are remarkable._

_(1:23) Message from Jester Lavorre: i’m preeeeetty great, right??_

_(1:27) Message from Caleb Widogast: A bit more than “pretty.”_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_(1:36) Message from Caleb Widogast: And also quite pretty._

_(1:38) Message from Jester Lavorre: Caaaaleeeeb you just called me preeeettyyyyyyy!!!!!_

_(1:44) Message from Caleb Widogast: Yes. I believe I did._

_(1:45) Message from Jester Lavorre: awwwwwwwww_

_(1:46) Message from Jester Lavorre: that’s like suuuuper cute_

_(1:46) Message from Jester Lavorre: also you’re like suuuuuper cute too :) :)_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_(1:54) Message from Caleb Widogast: Thank you..._

_(1:56) Message from Caleb Widogast: I will be transparent with you. I am not good at this._

_(1:58) Message from Jester Lavorre: at what??_

_(1:58) Message from Jester Lavorre: texting???_

_(2:01) Message from Caleb Widogast: Nein. Well, sometimes I am not so good at texting._

_(2:04) Message from Caleb Widogast: But I am also not so good at… well, I think you call it flirting, ja?_

_(2:06) Message from Jester Lavorre: you’re doing a great job!!_

_(2:07) Message from Jester Lavorre: and jaaaa_

_(2:07) Message from Jester Lavorre: it’s deeefinitely flirting ;)_

_(2:10) Message from Caleb Widogast: I am very much looking forward to Saturday._

_(2:12) Message from Jester Lavorre: meeee too!!_

_(2:21) Message from Caleb Widogast: I also just realized how late it is. Why are you still awake?_

_(2:22) Message from Jester Lavorre: because i’m talking to you!!_

_(2:25) Message from Caleb Widogast: If I stop responding, will you go to sleep?_

_(2:25) Message from Jester Lavorre: maaaaaaybeeeeee_

_(2:27) Message from Caleb Widogast: Then I will bid you a gute nacht, Jester._

_(2:29) Message from Jester Lavorre: ughhhhhhh fine_

_(2:29) Message from Jester Lavorre: good night, Caaaaleb xxxxx_

*****

Thursday

_(3:03) Message from Jester Lavorre: what are you wearing???_

_(3:08) Message from Caleb Widogast: Clearly you are not sleeping._

_(3:10) Message from Jester Lavorre: it’s for research!!_

_(3:13) Message from Caleb Widogast: My white coat._

_(3:15) Message from Jester Lavorre: aaaaand under that??_

_(3:19) Message from Caleb Widogast: Scrubs._

_(3:20) Message from Jester Lavorre: Caaaaleeeeebbb you aren’t getting the joke_

_(3:24) Message from Caleb Widogast: Or I do get the joke and am teasing you._

_(3:25) Message from Jester Lavorre: you’re silly_

_(3:25) Message from Jester Lavorre: and also that’s flirting!!! what you just did!!!_

_(3:26) Message from Jester Lavorre: i just wanted to make sure you knew_

_(3:28) Message from Caleb Widogast: It seems I am learning much from you._

_(3:29) Message from Jester Lavorre: i am a reeeeaaallly good tutor ;)_

_(3:33) Message from Caleb Widogast: Get some sleep, Liebling._

_(3:32) Message from Jester Lavorre: xxxx_

_(3:36) Message from Caleb Widogast: One last thing because you should be sleeping since you have to work in six hours. What do the “x”s mean?_

_(3:37) Message from Jester Lavorre: you’ll find out on saturdaaaaaayyyy_

_(3:38) Message from Caleb Widogast: I shall wait impatiently then._

_(3:40) Message from Jester Lavorre: ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack! Sorry about the abrupt and announced hiatus. Life (TM) came to kneecap me with a crowbar, and now she's on my shit-list. Chapters will **hopefully** happen on a weekly basis, but I can't promise that at this point. But I wanted to give you something, my loves... and torture myself with texting timestamps because I. Am. A. Grade. A. Dumbass.
> 
> I adore you all, and please don't forget to love and protect and respect each other... we need more of that in the world right now. xoxo


	10. Heaven Sent A Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to catch up with the rest of the gang...
> 
> Also: fuck timestamps. Period.
> 
> Chapter title is from "The Light" by Sarah Bareilles.

Thursday

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: holy FUCKING SHIT_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: what what what??????!!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i think i just asked Yasha out..._

_Message from Jester Lavorre: WHATTTT_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: wait you think?!?!?_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: UGH I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: wait wait BREATHEEE_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i’ve forgotten how to_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: ok what did you say????_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: ok ok so context_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: we’ve been texting for a couple of weeks_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: for how long exactly???_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: since the summers zenith festival_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: omgggggg that’s SOOO CUUUTEEE_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: not the point jess_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: still SOOO CUUUTEEE_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: like sooooo cuuuutee that i'm not even mad at you for not telling me_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: that makes it sound like you're mad at me_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: i'll only be mad if you don't tell me what happened!!!!!!!!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: ok ok so we’re talking about like dumb shit_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: well not dumb shit cause it’s workout stuff and she’s legit_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: omg soo are youuuu!! <3 _

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i mean i wasn’t fishing but thanks jess_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: <3 <3 <3 <3 <3!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: and so i was telling her about this new HIT routine i’m working on that’s straight up murdering my ass but it burns so good and makes you sweat like a motherfucker_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: and she said she’d like to see that_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: and then i said… ok wait copying here_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: that would be dope! we should work out together this weekend_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: and then she said (also copying)_

_Message from Beauregard Lionet: sounds good. maybe sunday and then grab lunch. if that works for you.._

_Message from Jester Lavorre: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: I KNOW_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: omg beau you didn’t ask yasha out_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: she asked YOU out_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: wait what?_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: well first of all she came on to you_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: she’d LIKE TO SEE YOU ALL SWEATY AND MUSCLEY AND HOTTT_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: and then SHE asked YOU out to lunch and OMG IT’S SO CUTEEEEE_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: holy fucking shit you’re right_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: right??!???!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i thought i was being smooth when i asked her to fucking work out_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: why am i this dumb_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: because you’re in loooooooooooovvvvveeeeeee_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: ugh shut up_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: gross_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: KISSY KISSSY I LOVE YOU YASHA WILL YOU MAKE OUT WITH ME PLEASSEEEE_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: (because consent is key!!)_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: ok so i’m going on a date_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: yes!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: with yasha_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: !!!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: fuck_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: what do i wear_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: i mean… what do you wear to the gym usually??_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: aren’t you supposed to look super hot on dates_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: beau_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: you wear those tight sports bra crop tops to show off your RIDICULOUS abs_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: looking super hot isn’t going to be a problem_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i’d say i wasn’t fishing again but i kinda was_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: you’re welcome!!!_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: omgomgomg i’m SOOO excited for you!!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: good because i kind of feel like puking_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: don’t be nervous!!! be yourself because yourself is amazing and yasha knows that!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: jess, you’re the best_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: :D_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: also_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: what the hell’s up with you and widogast these days?_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: weeeeeeeellllll_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: let’s just say you’re not the only one with a date this weekend..._

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: WHAT_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: THAT MOTHERFUCKER DID IT_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: aaaactually i asked HIM out_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: that sounds more on brand_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: was wondering if he was going to sit and pine for forever_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: he’s even mopier than usual when he pines_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: what are you guys doing?_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: hanging out at your place on saturday_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: so… the exact same thing you do every saturday_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: don’t judge!!!! you’re the one who thought she had asked yasha out when she did it for you!!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: fair_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i’ll make myself scarce on saturday_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: so i’m not scarred for life when you two get it on_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: LOL beau we’re not going to have sex_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: not yet at least :P_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i’m going to need to buy noise-cancelling headphones, aren’t i?_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: :P :P :P_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: just please don’t fuck on the couch_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: no promises!!_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i sit there_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: i nap there_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: I EAT THERE_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: mwuhahahaha_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: you’re a fucking demon_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: you betcha!!!_

*****

Thursday (mid-morning)

_Message from Caleb Widogast: How are you feeling?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Better_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: My brain still feels like it’s too small for my head but I was able to drop Luc off at school this morning so progress I think_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Sounds like you are on the mend._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: What have you taken for your head?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Something Yeza’s doctor gave him back when he had stress migraines a couple of years back_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: He probably shouldn’t hang on to those. Send me a photo when you get the chance?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Yes doctor_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Do you think Jester will ever forgive me?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Forgive you for what?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Ruining her birthday_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Schatz, you didn’t ruin her birthday. I’m sure Jester would say there is nothing to forgive._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: That would be very kind but I know it’s not true_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: And I’m sorry you had to take care of me_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: There is also nothing to forgive there. You are my friend._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: The first part isn’t true_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: But I’m glad the second part is_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I am too._

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: It has been a while since I have seen you like that._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I’m sorry… I don’t mean to offend or cast blame. But I care very much about you._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I am also not very good with words._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: You’re better than me_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: What I mean to ask is, are you ok?_

_Veth Brenatto is typing…_

_Veth Brenatto is typing…_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: I’m not sure_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Most mornings I wake up and feel fine_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Happy sometimes_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: But that old fear creeps up as the day goes on_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: That I’m a bad mother because I can’t pull myself together or stop being so sad about shit that happened years ago or about things I should have done or not done or stupid things at work I mess up or forget about_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Yeza and Luc put up with so much. They deserve better_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: You deserve better too_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Veth Brenatto, you are a good person. You are a caring wife and a devoted mother. Your family is fortunate to have you. As am I._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Whatever it takes to help you, we will do it._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Yeza said something didn’t he_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Caleb Widogast is typing…_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: You’re not throwing him under the bus don’t worry_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: He is concerned._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Are you?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I am concerned because you are unhappy._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Only sometimes_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: And it helps to be at work and around friends_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: What can I do to help?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Just… be patient with me_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Please?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: These things take time._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: And distract me when things go screwy_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: You’re good at that_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I usually am not the person to make things better, but I will try._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: What are you talking about? You’re a surgeon. Making people feel better is what you do best!_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: That’s far too kind._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Now don’t you start getting down on yourself too. You’re supposed to be distracting me_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Ah ja. Well, I had a very successful hernia surgery today._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: No work talk!!_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Wait where was the hernia?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Groin._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Ouchies_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Ja, it was rather unpleasant for the patient, but went well._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Since your rules for conversation to cheer you up are rather arbitrary, what shall I talk to you about?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: How about…….._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Have you seen Jester at all?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: At the hospital, ja._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: That’s it?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: No other news? No details? Nothing?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Not even for me?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: I need cheering up……._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Teufelin._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: I can translate things on my phone very easily you know_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I have seen her. But we have also been exchanging texts._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: I KNEW IT_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: You knew?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Well no but I had a feeling so I KNEW IT_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: How long have you been texting?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: What have you said to her?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: What has she said back?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Have you told her she’s your heart’s desire and you can’t sleep because you think about her all the time???_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: You are reading those trashy romance novels again, aren’t you?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: They are bestselling young adult novels and I will hear nothing against them_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: My mistake._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: We talked about things that are old, her mother, and how Caduceus is a surprisingly good singer._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: … sexy_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: It was quite enjoyable._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: So when’s the wedding??_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: You are very funny, but I think we will start with Saturday._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: What’s on saturday?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: We are seeing each other on Saturday._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: WAIT_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: WAIT WAIT WAIT_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Caleb Widogast… are you telling me that you and Jester are going on a DATE on Saturday??????_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Well, we aren’t so much going somewhere as staying in._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: She's coming to your HOUSE on your FIRST DATE????!!!_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Is it a date if we don’t go anywhere?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: YES_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: IN THIS CASE YES_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!?!?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I am not sure._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: That isn’t true._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: It has been a very long time since I have done this._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: The last time did not end so well._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: You’ve never really talked about that before_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Another time and another life. It brings back memories I would much rather forget._

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I am sorry to burden you._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: You’re never a burden!!!_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: And you’d say that after taking care of my wasted ass?? Really??_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: I don’t think you’re a burden because I love you. But if you are, then we both are so we can be burdens together_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Shit I thought that would come out more comforting_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I get the gist, Schatz. You know you are my dearest friend, ja?_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: I better be!!!!!!_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: I will fight anyone else who might be!!_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: I do not doubt that — and that you would win._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: Good response_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: ok it’s bath time for Luc_

_Message from Veth Brenatto: See you tomorrow?_

_Message from Caleb Widogast: Of course._

  
*****

Later

_Message from Caleb Widogast: She also asked me what I was wearing the other night._

_Message from Veth Brenatto: WHAT?!?!_

*****

Thursday (evening)

_Message from Jester Lavorre: so i have the CUUUUUTTESSTT thing to show you tomorrow_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: but i am WAYYY too excited so i have to tell you what it is right now_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: wait but i shouldn’t because i want it to be a surpriseeeee!!_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: basically you have to come see me asap tomorrow_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: like right when you get in because_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: oh my GODSSSS i am going to explode!!!!_

*****

  
~30 minutes later

_Message from Jester Lavorre: you’re probably in surgery so i will text you later!! :) :)_

*****

  
Later

_Message from Jester Lavorre: soooo do you know how to know if pasta is done cooking?_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: you’re supposed to throw it at the ceiling right??_

*****

  
~ 2 minutes later

_Message from Jester Lavorre: oh fuck that was a dumb idea_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: DON’T throw pasta at the ceiling_

*****

  
Even later

_Message from Jester Lavorre: update_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: i got the pasta down!!!_

_Message from Jester Lavorre: but like anyway i just wanted to check in and see how you are :) :) :) xx_

*****

Late

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: jess, you up?_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: can i call?_

_Message from Beauregard Lionett: it’s about caleb_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Am. So. So. SO. sorry for going on an unannounced hiatus. That won't happen again, but only because from here on out, chapters might be updating on an every-few-weeks basis. And as an FYI... the next chapter isn't very happy. :( BUT, the M9 shall rally. They always do!
> 
> Don't forget to love each other, friends! xo


	11. If Only My Head Would Let Me Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /Comes in fifteen years late with coffee for only herself and sunglasses to hide her eye twitch./ 'Sup, my loves. Here with a bit of a downer... but also some quality-ish Caleb/Jester time....?
> 
> MAJOR CONTENT WARNINGS: self-harm (past), mental illness, dissociating, death (not depicted but mentioned in a hospital setting)
> 
> **I have italicized the paragraph detailing Caleb's past self-harm, just in case you feel more comfortable skipping it. For reference, it's also between "exhale-two-three-four" and "Oh, Cayleb."**
> 
> Chapter title is from "If Only" by Gin Wigmore.

With the window blinds closed, time passed more quickly. Save for a digital clock, a twenty-year-old relic left by the room’s previous tenant, that blinked wearily on the bedside table, there was no other way to discern noon from midnight in the darkened room — unless, as was the case with Caleb, the current occupant had a freakishly accurate internal sense of time. 

For Caleb, that particular curse bestowed on his unwilling self the knowledge that nearly nineteen hours had passed since he had left the hospital in a daze following a meeting with the chief of surgery. It had been some time since Caleb had sat in Essek’s office, the chief of surgery across from him. If one of his friends at the hospital had pressed him hard enough, Caleb would have admitted to missing their weekly coffee breaks, not because Caleb was hard pressed for murky bean water, but rather because he craved the intellectual stimulation of conversation with Essek. Essek’s sabbatical in Rohsona had done him well, though as Caleb sat in the armchair opposite Essek, he found himself drifting and wondering what had Essek looking so concerned. And why Essek’s lips weren’t aligning with the unbroken falsetto whining in Caleb’s skull.

_ Is there someone we can call to bring you home? _

Whatever for? Caleb’s shift wouldn’t be over for hours. He had a biopsy scheduled for very soon. In fact, he knew he was running quite late. The patient shouldn’t be kept waiting. Caleb was a very good doctor who didn’t keep his patients waiting, if he could help it. 

_ You have a roommate, yes? _

Beauregard would be getting off work and heading to the Invulnerable Vagrant. There was no need to bother her. She worked so hard and deserved to burn off steam with Fjord and Yasha. 

Beau had answered on the fourth ring. Seventeen minutes and forty-six seconds later, her car screeched to a hasty halt where Veth ( _ It’s going to be ok, Caleb _ . Of course it is, Veth.) had waited by Caleb’s side on the sidewalk near the hospital parking garage. While Veth’s gentle hands had trembled (Is she cold?  _ No, Caleb, I’m ok. Are you cold? _ He couldn’t feel the autumn chill.), Beau’s had felt as solid as the concrete beneath Caleb’s shoes.

Was Beauregard here to take him home?

_ Yeah, Caleb. Let’s go home. _

His shift wasn’t over yet.

_ Busting you out early. _

Who was going to drive his car home?

_ Veth said she and Yeza will. Give ‘er the keys? _

That sounded sensible enough.

Later, the steam of the shower helped to shake things loose. Unfortunate. Just when he was starting to think not feeling at all felt somewhat like flying in a dream, numb and foggy and sedated. Caleb would always wake up with a start during those dreams, his body and mind trying to make sense of freefalling while laying stock-still. So easy to cross between worlds just by opening your eyes. Coming back to life in a way that was opposite of, yet eerily and unsettlingly similar to, dying.

But dying wasn’t always easy. More often, it was a slow and laborious process. The bodies Caleb had treated over his career showed remarkable resilience, knitting themselves back together, filling in gaps with scar tissue, and repopulating themselves through the most basic of biological mechanisms — almost like magic. Though the magic didn’t always save them. Sometimes it was just a bandaid on an infected wound. It looked better from the outside, but the corruption had already taken hold, and no amount of debridement or drugs could mend what was irrevocably broken. Sure, there were surprises. Miracles. Cases that defied even Caleb’s comprehension. Those were the ones that everyone wanted to say made this life worth it. The situations that memoirs were written about and made it into climactic movie scenes before the happy music played and everyone got to go home together.

There were other cases that defied comprehension. Those were far less cheerful. No one wanted to talk about those — and very few had to live with them on their consciences.

Twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Caleb had counted each and every one, the metronome in his head out of sync with the wild beating of his heart as he worked to restart another. Intraoperative cardiac arrest. Exceedingly rare, but possible. Even coursed with adrenaline, his arms had begun to falter, their strength depleted from compressions that went  _ on _ and  _ on _ and  _ on _ and  _ on _ and  _ on _ like the beat of a song that you remembered being faster in your head but were surprised was actually much slower when you heard it on the radio. Fjord had stepped in, his own body more up to the task. Caleb kept counting, his pupils zeroing in on their chosen mark — a brilliant, wispy artistic expression of greens, blues, and purples beginning at the patient’s neck and tracing down to the collarbone before snaking across the right shoulder, a drop of red where the colors were darkest, like an unblinking eye that watched Caleb mockingly. An unwelcome audience.

He couldn’t recall anything that had happened in between calling time of death and ending up in Essek’s office. Had he been so out of sorts that he had had to be escorted, or had he walked himself? Whatever shame and humiliation was growing within him under the hottest water his skin could tolerate, Caleb knew he deserved it and more.  _ Useless. Useless. Useless. _

Later as he laid in bed on his side and stared at the fading red numbers on the clock, Caleb reflected that the patient hadn’t actually had a tattoo. There had been no unblinking red eye mocking him this time.

*****

Jester had done her best to stay away for as long as she could. When Beau had called late Thursday night, Jester had feared for the worst. The sound of Beau’s voice, raspy and spent, sent Jester into a flurry of bad memories and back to another time when her friend had been tasked with breaking Jester’s heart. Poor Beau. Being a frequent ‘in case of emergency’ contact meant carrying some heavy burdens.

Still, at least  _ Caleb _ was  _ alive _ . As soon as the thought took shape, Jester felt disgusted with herself. Someone had died, and there she was, relieved that her… friend… was still breathing. In her defense, Jester’s experience had taught her that wasn’t a given among her friends.

It didn’t help that she still had to show up for work the next morning. Normally, Jester could shrug off a bad mood when she remembered the significance of her work — discovery, resolution, peace, maybe a flicker of happiness. She might not be a doctor, but she could be there to listen and help those working through illness, trauma, loss, and uncertainty. She had to be the strong one, their rock during each thirty- to forty-five-minute session.

The facade threatened to break when doctors and other staff she barely knew asked about how Caleb was doing, if he needed anything, if he liked broccoli casserole because it freezes so well and would be great to keep in the house. Jester tried to smile despite feeling entirely out of her depth. How do you tell nosey people who mean well that not only do you not know how your friend is doing, but you also aren’t his girlfriend and haven’t even been on a single date with the guy, and you certainly haven’t seen him since  _ it _ happened, so you’re in the dark as much as they are without sounding rude? Jester nodded along, playing her role in a strange little pageant, all while feeling like part of a farce. Perhaps it would comfort Caleb to learn how many people at Alfield General actually cared about him? That was a generous read, and even Jester knew it. More likely, the well-wishers were relieved it hadn’t been them in that operating room.

Jester skipped lunch to check in with her friends. Fjord, who was ending his shift by the time Jester found him, was still visibly shaken, but he hid it well and instead asked about Caleb. In answer, Jester pulled Fjord into the biggest hug she could muster. “It happens,” he whispered into her hair, his usual awkwardness about physical contact melting away, probably because he was exhausted. “You learn that when you get into this.” She knew those words were more consolation for himself than reassurance for her, but Jester was still touched by Fjord’s capacity for empathy.

Veth was more worked up than Jester had ever seen her. Veth checked her phone constantly, trying to will a message from Beau or Caleb into existence, Jester imagined. The silence was oppressive. Veth threatened to leave work and drive over immediately. It took twenty minutes for Jester to convince Veth to stay. Beau had told her Caleb needed time and space. She would reach out with any updates. “I should be there,” intoned Veth, placing her head in her hands miserably, her voice cracking more than normal. Jester merely rubbed Veth’s back in soothing circles.

Even Caduceus seemed down, a feat in itself. Depressed Caduceus was not that different from normal, content Caduceus. His graceful stoicism remained despite the perceptible shift in mood, and he seemed more interested in how Jester was faring than in airing his own feelings. When Jester did ask, he gave her a wan smile. “It’s fairly common among healers to put yourself last, especially when you know there’s not much else you can do to help,” he had told her. “All we can do is be there for each other.” Jester nodded in understanding.

By the time she had made the rounds with her friends, it was time for her last session of the day. Jester perked herself up and packed a special surprise for a little girl, Jana, who had been battling leukemia for months: brand new, washable finger paints. The good kind. Jana’s sense of humor never failed to make Jester smile, and the two went over time using their fingers to spread bright primary colors in the likeness of superheroes with long, flowing capes… on the windows of Jana’s room. Jester convinced the nurse on call to let Jana keep the paintings (“her masterpieces!”) up for the time being, provided Jester helped to make the windows sparkle like nothing had ever happened and bring special double-fudge brownies with marshmallows and peanut butter swirls for the children’s ward nurses. Not a bad way to end a shitty day. 

The reprieve didn’t last long. Back at her apartment for the evening, even the trashiest of reality television wasn’t doing the trick. Normally, Jester would be absorbed in the manufactured drama. Her thoughts strayed to Caleb. What was he doing? How was he doing? Was he eating? Would he want to talk to someone? He probably wanted (needed?) to be left alone, Jester concluded as she stopped herself from tapping out a text message to Caleb on her phone. Looking at the last entries in the thread, Jester felt a pang of mortification. What an idiot she had been to bombard Caleb with all those stupid messages when he was going through hell. He had been fighting to save a life. He had been in pain. And she had been blathering on about throwing pasta at the wall like a stupid child who craved attention.

Spiraling — Jester was spiraling in negativity. Her throat felt tight as she unlocked her phone, which had grown dark as she had been lost in thought, and navigated to the one contact whose voice she needed to hear.

Two rings.

“Momma?”

“Jester, my darling! How are y-” Before Marion could finish, Jester was crying. “Oh, my sweet girl,” her mother sighed, her voice heavy with the sort of sadness only a mother witnessing her child in need could know. “What has happened?”

In between sobs, Jester managed to get most of the story out: how Caleb was suffering, and there was nothing any of his friends could do to help; how she had originally feared the worst; how her heart couldn’t take losing yet another person she loved. “I feel so useless, momma,” she said, sniffling and mopping her tears with her pajama top sleeve.

“I know, my love,” Marion responded with her usual comforting patience. Jester felt a twinge in her chest and couldn’t help but wish she were at home in Nicodranas where she would be enveloped in her mother’s arms. “You are a helper by nature. You care more about others’ feelings than you do your own. It is a gift, but it can also be a burden.”

“Caduceus said something like that too.” Jester could hear the smile in the small noise of approval her mother made.

“Then you are lucky to be surrounded by such a loving group of friends. But you must tell me, are you all right, my Jester? Do you need to come home?”

“No, momma. Please, I don’t want you to worry. I will be ok…” She couldn’t stop her voice from trembling, which Jester was sure made her sound far less than ok. “I just… I just wish I could do something to help Cayleb. I mean, instead of sending him stupid texts about throwing pasta on the ceiling.”

“How do you know he doesn’t like to read your messages?”

Jester laughed breathily, surprising herself. “I guess he does… but I think it’s gonna take more than rambling this time.”

“You will think of a way. You have a special talent for helping those around you open their hearts to the love around them. I have faith in you.”

“Thank you, momma. I love you.”

“I love you too, my Jester.”

Not wanting to keep Jester up any longer, Marion sent her daughter to bed over the phone, promising that things would be better in the morning. Maybe they would be, but Jester laid awake and staring at the rotating ceiling fan above her bed for at least an hour, chewing her lip and racking her brain, before an uneasy sleep claimed her. 

*****

The sound that shattered his sleep and sent Caleb hurling himself across his bedroom to examine his pager in a cold sweat turned out to be only his alarm clock. A far cry from a flatline but convincing enough to someone in the throes of an early-morning nightmare. Half-lucid, Caleb ripped the decrepit thing from the wall and threw it at his closed door, dashing it into jagged plastic pieces. At least that had shut it up.

“Gods, Caleb, you alright?” Beau’s muffled voice came from beyond where his alarm clock had left a noticeable dent in the wood.

Caleb scrubbed his face with his hands and took in a ragged breath. “ _ Ja _ . I am ok.” He stumbled over the last word.

“Ok, dude… well… you… coming out today?”

When had he last left his room? He vaguely recalled opening the door at some point during the previous night to let Frumpkin in. The poor creature had shoved his paws through the crack under the door, crying and begging to be with Caleb. At least someone wanted him around. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, honestly.

“Ok, well, here’s the thing.” Beau sounded anxious. “Uh… if you’re not up for anything, that’s cool. Totally get it. You need time. Just let me know… but the thing is…” Silence for a moment, and Caleb could practically hear her thinking through the door. “Jester’s here. To see you.”

_ No. No, no, no. No. _

He didn’t have to ask why. Caleb hadn’t dissociated to the point of not remembering it was Saturday.  _ The _ Saturday. The day he was supposed to spend with Jester. Here at his house. Just them. Alone. That part — about it being  _ that _ Saturday — he had forgotten. Other things had replaced it — not in importance, of course not. She was important, and he was nothing. 

Caleb sat on the floor, back against the foot of his bed, knees pulled up to his chest. He was wearing the same extra-large t-shirt riddled with holes and flannel pajama pants he’d pulled on before his body had given out on him after coming home from the hospital. He also hadn’t showered since that night, and when he had, Caleb hadn’t been in the state of mind that he was showering to be clean rather than standing beneath punishingly scalding water while working to reconnect his consciousness to reality. At some point, he would need to be reacquainted with soap. He just wasn’t sure if that point was right now.

“Caleb, did you hear me?” Beau spoke like she was herding a wild animal. “Been quiet for a while.”

“ _ Ja _ . I’m… not sure.”

A moment of silence. “Ok, man. That’s fine. I’m gonna hang with her in the kitchen for a bit. Maybe make some breakfast, uh… lunch, I guess. Be good to get some food in you. Join if you want, but no pressure.”

Caleb felt himself nodding even though Beau couldn’t see him. He heard scuffing as Beau dragged her bare feet down the hallway and down the stairs. She was right; at the mention of food, Caleb’s stomach heaved from neglect. If it hadn’t been for the stale cup of water on his bedside table, he also would have been more dehydrated than he was. Going downstairs though… that meant seeing Jester and facing the massive disappointment Caleb was in every conceivable arena of his life. What was he thinking that he could pull himself together for this woman? How could he even have imagined he’d be able to leave his old life, his old failures, behind? It was Rexxentrum all over again. With that horrible thought, Caleb felt his skin on his arms begin to crawl and his muscles go rigid and his breath quicken, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen to his lungs. Then he felt the now familiar vibration of his phone on the carpet against his leg — so that’s where it had gone — and his eyes dropped reflexively to read the incoming messages.

_ Message from Jester Lavorre: hi! you might not want to see anyone right now and that’s totally ok _

_ Message from Jester Lavorre: but i wanted to see you just to let you know i’m here _

_ Message from Jester Lavorre: but again it’s super ok if you want me to leave _

_ Message from Jester Lavorre: either way i’m here for you whether you want to talk or not _

_ Message from Jester Lavorre: whatever you need :) _

Caleb tried to reread Jester’s texts on the lock screen, but they had overlapped each other so much that he needed to swipe and pull up the messages app. There they were though, sweet and simple, one after another, sent in a rapidfire stream of consciousness — a pattern for most of Jester’s messages, Caleb had noticed over the last couple of days. How did she do that? Rattle off something so off-the-cuff that had the profound and weighted effect of reminding Caleb of the moment he was inhabiting? The past he compartmentalized, yet could never quite subdue, wasn’t gone, but its haunting whispers were, for the moment, quieted. His chest rose and fell at a tempo closer to normal, and the crawling sensation underneath the skin covering his forearms had dulled to a slightly uncomfortable itch. Remarkable. The woman should have charged by the hour.

He inhaled slowly through his nose. Ok. He could try.

*****

Caleb followed the sound and smell of pancakes sizzling in hot butter. As he peered around the stairs and past the living room, he saw the girls standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the stove, watching the fruits of their labor take shape. 

“Jess, they’re gonna fall flat if you keep poking ‘em.”

“That’s how you tell when to flip them!”

“No, no, it’s from the bubbles. You see those and once they stop coming up-”

“Then flip!” Jester took the frying pan by the handle, to Beau’s protestations, and made a violent jerking motion that sent the pancake up into the air. Unfortunately, her aim was off, and the pancake splattered helplessly against the side of the stove before sliding pathetically onto the floor. “Oh shit, my bad!”

“Dammit,” grumbled Beau.

“So-rry!” said Jester as she spun around to grab the nearest roll of paper towels. She noticed Caleb while unspooling what could have been considered an un-environmentally-friendly number of sheets. “Oh! Hi, Cayleb.” She gave him a grin that started off wide and welcoming but became timid as she seemed to realize what sort of state he was in. Shame began to well up in him, burning the tips of his ears, which he assumed were turning bright red. Fuck, he should have changed and showered and done something more than pull his hair back. He should have stayed upstairs. Even still, it was nice to hear her voice.

Becoming aware of Caleb, Beau turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Hey, man. You’re just in time to eat off the floor.”

Jester rolled her eyes dramatically. “Beeeaaauuuu, I said I was so-rry!”

Beau responded by poking Jester in the ribs with the handle of a plastic spatula, which made Jester giggle and the corner of Caleb’s mouth twitch. “Whatever. Just make sure you use this next time. It’s been way too long since we’ve cleaned these fucking floors.”

“Are you hungry, Cayleb? You can have the first pancakes!” Jester was already at work spooning more batter into the pan and adding enough butter to clog the arteries of everyone in Alfield. 

“I could eat,” Caleb said slowly, crossing his arms to stifle the growl emanating from his midsection. 

The girls did let Caleb have the first pancakes — which had not fallen on the floor. Jester had even stopped at the store to buy real maple syrup instead of the flavored corn syrup shit gathering dust near the back of his and Beau’s pantry. “Anyone want whipped cream?” Jester asked, flashing the canister at the table. 

“Is there any left?” Beau chided, pointing a smirk at Jester’s stack of pancakes, which was merely a liferaft for a mountain of whipped cream floating atop a lazy river of syrup. In retaliation, Jester showed Beau the chewed food on her tongue.

Eating a carbohydrate-laden and sugar-infused breakfast at 1:30 in the afternoon almost made it feel like a normal Saturday. Almost. Caleb was quiet through their meal, which wasn’t new, as he allowed Jester and Beau to take up space in ways that helped him feel a bit more grounded. They didn’t ask him questions aside from whether he liked his pancakes ( _ “Sehr gut, ja.” _ ) or if he needed more maple syrup ( _ “Neine. Danke, Jester.” _ ). They talked about the latest episode of the reality television program Jester loved and Beau pretended to hate. Apparently the favored contestant had been sent home after past social media posts had revealed he was in short supply of good character. They even told Caleb to not bother with the dishes; they would handle it. “ _ Nein _ , I can help,” Caleb protested.

That was how Caleb ended up drying dishes next to Jester. After she had finished wiping down the counter and glancing at the clock, Beau had hauled ass upstairs to change into her gym clothes. Odd that Beau would be stressed out about going to work out.

The repetitive motion of drying bowls and plates and utensils was calming for Caleb, though he soon noticed Jester struggled with washing some of the heavier pots and pants. How many had they used anyway, and what exactly had they used a colander for? “Want to switch?” he offered.

Jester agreed. “I’m better at drying anyway. Kind of like how I’m better at licking the bowl than actually baking.”

“That’s not true,” Caleb countered. “The pancakes were excellent.”

“Weeeell, that was mainly because Beau made sure I followed the recipe,” admitted Jester with a shrug. “If it were just up to me, they would have been bright pink and filled with sprinkles!”

Amused, Caleb smiled softly as she began to roll up his sleeves, suddenly stopping as his mind connected his actions to the ramifications about to befall them both. His face must have fallen instantly because Jester stared at him, violet eyes wide in alarm. “Cayleb, what’s wrong?”

_ You’re a fool for ever thinking you could live a happy life. Even normalcy is too good for you. Well, what are you waiting for? If you continue this charade with her, she’ll know eventually. She’ll know just how damaged you are — scarred on the outside, rotting on the inside. Unworthy. Useless. _

Inhale-two-three-four. Exhale-two-three-four.

_ He continued rolling up the sleeves of his ratty shirt, eyes locked on the nothingness over the sink, until the fabric on both arms came just below his elbows. There was no gasp, no sharp intake of breath, but he knew she saw his wreckage. Mottled and pitted, some complete circles from cigarettes, others elongated patches blistered by cheap gas station lighters, matches, whatever was on hand. As a child, Caleb had played by passing his small hands through the fire of candles, first at a distance and quickly, finding strange delight in the sharp scent of burning hair, then getting closer and growing slower as the heat became more intense and the pain built. His father had given Caleb a brutal scolding upon finding his son at his little game one day.  Oh, father, if only it had only  just been playing with fire _ _._

“Oh, Cayleb.” 

From the tremor in her voice, Caleb could tell Jester was fighting tears. He winced. “I do not want pity.” He certainly did not deserve it. “I’m… sorry. I do not mean to be harsh.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

From the corner of his eye, Caleb saw Jester move to put down the plate and towel before taking a step toward him. To his disgust, he couldn’t help but feel an urge to shrink back. That urge must have reflected in his posture because Jester paused. “May I?”

He glanced right to find her delicate hand hovering inches from his shoulder, steady and deliberate. Why would she want to touch someone who could do the things he had done to himself, to others? Someone whose hands inflicted pain upon their own master as well as injury and death upon those who placed themselves in his care.  _ Shun me, beat me, curse me, disown me. Only, please do not show me grace.  _ He didn’t know if he could stand it.

He nodded. 

Her touch through his shirt was like salve to an open wound — not a panacea, but the healing he did not know he needed there and then. Her hand traced small, soothing circles. He closed his eyes. 

“It’s going to be ok, Cayleb.”

Perhaps, one day, he might be allowed to believe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I have no excuse for being gone this long... but have you SEEN America lately? /Long, labored inhale./ I am also so very sorry for emerging with this beast of a very sad chapter. The next chapter will be slightly more upbeat, though Caleb's not out of the woods quite yet. The healing process is often slow. 
> 
> Big thanks to our friend Liam for giving us a whopping does of good, good, Grade-A pining in the past few episodes. Keep that shit coming, my man.
> 
> And y'all know I just had to get our favorite Hot Boi in there, right? Sweet, sweet Essek... 
> 
> Next time: Beau freaks out about her date with Yasha and seeks emergency help from Jester and Fjord. Taking time off from work, Caleb continues to heal, thanks to his friends and the help of a very creative and persistent Jester.
> 
> I hope you all are well and safe, my loves. Please don't forget to love each other — from 6+ feet away and with masks, please! xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> Updates on a semi-regular basis.
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr @arbiterofabsurdities!


End file.
